Dawn of Darkness
by Obsidian Sage
Summary: Peace was too good to last. Voldemort's back and Harry finds his life taking a turn for the worst. But there is more than meets the eye as the Dark Prince's life spirals down into a game where the only rule is to kill or be killed. Sequel to Last Riddle
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Hello hello hello! The sequel is finally here :D I know I kept you waiting for a while, but I had to get into the swing of things again and figure some things out. Real Life Not Helping. Anyway, this is about the story. The entire summary wouldn't fit at all, so I'll write it below in a moment, and you'll get a good idea about what to expect. I have to say, if you're a new reader, you should read "The Last Riddle" first, or this won't make any sense to you, but if you've already read the first installment, welcome back! I'll try to answer to all your reviews, but sometimes time won't let me and I apologize in advance for that. Now, I realize you're not here to read an Author's Note, so let's get this party started already xD

Summary: They all knew peace was too good to last. Albus Dumbledore knew that Jack Riddle's survival could only mean trouble. Harry Potter knew that the strangers behind Cedric Diggory's death were more than met the eye. Lord Voldemort knew he could not hide anymore. Jack Riddle knew things were about to take a turn for the worst. What Albus Dumbledore didn't know was that the Dark Prince would be the least of his problems. What Harry Potter didn't know was how much the strangers would change his life. What Lord Voldemort didn't know was that his past would be back haunt him. What Jack Riddle didn't know was how deep he would get into a game with only one rule: to kill... or be killed.

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**Prologue**

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Jeffald Webber crashed against the wall, dead before he slid to the floor.

Minutes before, he had delivered very bad news to his employer and he had paid the price of eliciting the man's fury. No one would remember him, as it usually happened to agents working undercover for the government. His identity had been changed, and every record of the original one had been erased. Had he known the way he would end up he would have never confirmed the rumours.

The Secretary was now pacing around the chamber, breathing deeply and already feeling regret for killing Jeffald. Good agents were hard to come by, after all. However, right now he had to deal with much more important issues than guilt, and so pushed emotion aside and tried to clear his head.

'_So the rumours are true, eh Jeffald?'_ he thought with no small amount of worry. This could bring his plans to a screeching halt, or at least jeopardize them. The boy's survival would cost him more than he was willing to pay, and to top it off, he was certain the Emperor had had a hand in the matter.

He sighed and ran a hand through his grey hair. His superiors would be far from pleased when they heard that the empire they were trying to build was threatened by the boy's mere existence. He thought he had sent the little runt to his death the day he authorized the mother's assassination, throwing him into the clutches of the most ruthless slave traders he knew of.

It had been the perfect, foolproof scheme. Had the boy died in a labour camp or a mine, beaten to death, experimented on or overworked, it would be seen as a terrible misfortune that such a promising young leader had fallen prey to slavery. After all, children and adults disappeared on a weekly basis from every segment of society; there was nothing that guaranteed the Dark Lord's family was safe from the slave traders. No one would be able to link the boy's death to a member of the government, and consequently, the Secretary's superiors.

He knew he had taken an almost reckless risk when he allowed Samantha Ravine to be killed, the last Heir of Ravenclaw –with the exception of her son- but if there was someone alive who could uncover the truth, that would be her. The witch had been inconveniently sharp and she had loved her little boy more than life itself, which complicated things. Thankfully, she had been soul-bonded to the Dark Lord, closer than a consort, yet not legal in any way. (_Somehow the Dark Lord didn't seem like the marrying type_, he thought with a laugh.) At any rate, her relationship with the Dark Lord had made her a target for anyone seeking revenge on him. If things came to worst, revenge would be the first thing that crossed Voldemort's mind, clouding his judgement and drawing attention away from the Wizengamot. Then, of course, the fruitless search for his young heir would sidetrack him. If things had gone according to plan, the most powerful Dark family in centuries would have been torn apart and would have ceased to be a threat.

The problem was they hadn't.

Lady Ravine was dead. Lord Voldemort was probably dead, too.

Their son was _not_.

While Voldemort had been a force to be reckoned with, the boy had been the real threat. Heir to both Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin, the child was destined to grow into a more powerful wizard than his parents. He was a born leader with the right amount of intelligence, passion and hatred to bring down the conspiracy in its entirety. By killing his mother and condemning him to slavery, they had unwillingly fuelled their enemy's drive, and now it was more urgent than ever to kill the boy before he became a full-grown adult.

If for some reason the boy figured out that the Secretary was behind his mother's death, it wouldn't mean anything. Perhaps the now fourteen-year-old boy would not make the connection to a whole conspiracy, and instead think the Wizengamot only wanted to land a blow on his father. But Jack Riddle was his mother's son. He would grow, and he would begin to connect the dots. Once he did, their plan would be at the greatest peril.

The Secretary paused in his pacing and stared at the stone fireplace on the far wall, knowing he would have to act the messenger this time. Hopefully his superiors would not lose their temper as he had done, because if they did then the Secretary would be joining Jeffald very soon.

Steeling himself he walked to the fireplace and reluctantly held the pouch with Floo Powder, already praying for Destiny to be merciful. He hoped to find one of his low-ranking superiors, instead of one of the two in the highest position of power. The female was especially vicious.

He threw a pinch of powder into the hearth and stepped back as the flames grew and turned green. He knelt down and placed his head in the fire. Clearly and loudly he called, "Ironmond!"

Seconds later, his head stopped spinning and he opened his eyes to a dimly lit room. The dark coloured furniture looked expensive, as did the rugs underneath it, but the bronze chandeliers were ridden by age and soot from the fires that burned in them. Aside from the various items, the room was empty.

He had known something like this could happen, but he was not fooled. He needed to wait. His superiors were extremely cautious when it came to contact with the world, and so he needed to wait until the room recognized him and alerted one of his superiors to his presence.

Sooner than he would have liked, the fire in the chandeliers flared and flooded the room with light, announcing the entrance of a Firewielder. He clutched his ring nervously, knowing which of his superiors was a Firewielder. Alas, luck was not with him that evening.

A woman in a dark red dress stepped into the light with catlike grace, much like a hypnotizing flame herself. Her ivory skin contrasted sharply with her raven hair, and her bright amber eyes only added to her attractive but dangerous looks. Out of the Secretary's seven superiors, she seemed to be the embodiment of beauty, rivalled only by the Elven maidens. Her body was young, but the spirit within it was as old as time.

She paused her graceful stride in the middle of the room to stare at him neutrally. The Secretary resisted the urge to gulp at her close scrutiny of him. This woman had held the highest position of power among his superiors until a month before, when _her _superior arrived, but that did not make her any less intimidating.

"What news do you bring, Vayu?" she asked softly, somehow making her seem more menacing.

The Secretary shrunk back a little. "I am afraid they are not good news, my Lady."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Vayu hoped he was not sweating. "My undercover agent, Jeffald, brought some disturbing information to my attention only minutes ago. It would seem that-"

"Vayu," cut the woman lazily. "Is this about the Dark Prince?"

Vayu gaped for a moment before catching himself. "How did you-?"

The woman laughed... it was a musical sound, but somehow sinister. Her amber eyes were sparkling with mirth when she turned to look at him again. "Vayu, you silly old man, we knew the Prince was alive all along. We do have connections. Why, we met the boy just last month."

"I am afraid I do not understand, my Lady," said Vayu uncertainly. They had known and kept him out of the loop?

She smirked. "Vayu, do not expect us to share all of our information with you," she chided maliciously. "Remember you are only an associate who will be rewarded in the end; you are not one of us. You are betraying your own kind, old man, how are we to know that you will not get cold feet along the way and betray us next?"

The man spluttered. "My Lady, I would never-"

"Do not speak of the future, Vayu, you do not know what it holds," snapped the woman. She went back to her calm demeanour in the blink of an eye and faced away from the fireplace. "We are all victims of Destiny in this realm."

Then came a silence broken by the crackling of the flames. It extended for almost a minute before the woman spoke again.

"Do not worry about Jack Riddle, Vayu," she told him while still looking away from him. "He might be destined to become a powerful wizard, but he is still young. His father gave us a hard time when we first tried to put the plan into motion, but he also taught us how _not_ to proceed. The Prince will not know what hit him."

She turned around and narrowed her eyes at him. "Leave the boy to us. Stay in your post as Chief Warlock and Imperial Advisor, and alert us to any movements Emperor Tersias might be planning to make. However, if things come to worst, we may have to assassinate Tersias next. Your job requires you to fill in for Tersias until Prince Ianver is off age, does it not?" Vayu opened his mouth, but Laverna wouldn't let him speak. "It might look suspicious to kill Tersias a few years after we poisoned his father, but I suppose it is a risk we will have to take," she sighed. "About the boy… there must be a way of getting into his school." Then she frowned and stroked her chin in contemplation. "By Hades, that little runt is really a thorn in my side. We have to get rid of him as soon as possible."

Vayu silently agreed. As long as the boy was alive there would always be a real threat to the plan, because Jack Riddle was not only destined to be powerful… he was destined to become a Dark Lord and, as such, destined to command great armies and enormous political power. Yes… if someone could put an end to their plans that was him, and so Secretary Vayu agreed with his superiors.

The new era could not begin until the Dark Prince was dead.


	2. Our Last Summer

A/N: Back :P I have to confess I already had this chapter, but I didn't want to post so fast because I didn't want to run out of updates xD Anyway, won't keep you waiting any longer.

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Chapter 1 – ****Our Last Summer**

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**"Too high, and not hot enough! Concentrate on channelling the heat into- _crap!_ Not so much! Urchin! You almost burned my eyebrows off! Be careful with those flames! Nice and easy now… aim first, shoot _later_! I swear you're the first Firewielder I meet who attacks and then turns around to see if he's hit the target; keep doing that and you're going to end up burning down your own house. Now breathe and- why are you looking at me like that?"

Jack lowered his arms and the flames around him wilted and died. He was shooting his godfather a very evillook while trying to ignore his father's laughter in the background. His godfather, Diego Hawkins, had been trying –_trying_ being the keyword- to teach him a new Firewielding technique for the last week, but Jack didn't seem to be making much progress. He put it down to his godfather's terrible teaching skills, because admitting that he still had trouble regulating temperature was too humiliating to consider. Furthermore, Tom's laughter did little to ease the teenager's annoyance.

"You're the worst teacher I've ever met, Hawkins," called Tom from the porch, peeking at the pair from the top of a book. "Seriously, merely looking at you makes me wish the boy had turned out an Airwielder so I could teach him instead."

Diego scowled at the only other adult present. "Out of practice, is all. Jack and I just need some time to get into the swing of things."

Jack's evil look morphed into one of disbelief. "Some time?" he cried, his voice an octave higher than usual. "Diego, we've been working on this since June! I say a month is enough to 'get into the swing of things', no? I want my summer holidays back, if you please."

"And you would do with those, what exactly?"

Jack spluttered in indignation. "I have friends you know!"

"Yes, but they live in other countries," commented Tom easily, before going back to his book. "I say you call it a day. Jack's too frustrated to get anything down, and he's turning the front garden to ashes. Maggie won't be pleased, and Alfred will most likely make you re-grow all the plants you've already killed."

Jack rolled his deep sapphire-blue eyes. "Thanks, _Dad_, I appreciate the support."

Tom scowled at his son. "Call me that again and you'll really be re-growing the entire garden, not just the front. Then I'll have you do a month's worth of Alfred's work as payment for dyeing his hair pink all those years ago."

The teenager gaped. "I was six! And you helped me!"

Tom smirked. "So I did, but Alfred doesn't need to know that."

"Traitor," spat Jack distastefully, kicking a pebble absently. "Maggie wouldn't let you do that to me, anyway."

"Yes, that's what she would want you to think," retorted his father. Maggie was their housekeeper. She was a witch in her mid-fifties who had served their family for almost twenty years… a little longer than Alfred, who was their butler: a wizard in his sixties that was often the victim of Jack's not-so-innocent pranks.

"Fine then," grumbled Diego, kicking the ground and making some small flames without meaning to. "Let's call it a day. But I won't leave you alone until you manage to create a shield!"

Jack bit back a cry of anguish. "Firewielding is offensive, not defensive!" he recited, tilting his head back. "There is no way I can make a shield out of fire because it's not solid!"

"Element attacks bounce off a firewall if the fire is hot enough, and you're wielding it with the necessary speed and strength," Diego argued back. "You're missing the heat."

"I'll show you heat!"

Tom sighed with exasperation and turned the page of his book, feeling, more than seeing, his Heir fire a tongue of flame at his godfather. _Firewielders_. How the boy expected to control fire before learning to control himself was beyond him.

And this happened _every day_.

It usually provided hours of entertainment, but today Jack was tired and fuming for some reason, and it showed in his Firewielding. His bursts of flame had become more erratic and most times he missed the target; it was getting him frustrated and it would make him moody for the rest of the day. For once he would have to agree with his son and tell Diego to back off for a while if they wanted the house to remain intact. Either that or he could send Jack to Diego's house instead… that way it was Diego's house at risk of burning down. He smirked at the idea.

"Just leave me alone!" Jack was saying to his godfather. Both had flames on their palms and their sleeves were scorched. Jack was peeved but Diego seemed to be holding back a laugh.

"Fine. Go away to visit that girlfriend of yours."

Jack's flames flared. "Ivy's not my girlfriend, she's a friend. We just like talking."

Diego put out his flames and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Whatever you say, Urchin. But that girl's pretty."

The teenager hissed.

Tom scoffed. This was another of the summer's developments. Ivy Draven was a girl who happened to live in Ebur _and _attend Jack's school, which meant that on the subject of friends they only had each other for the entire summer. The rest of their classmates lived in different countries across the world and an impromptu trip to Ebur because Jack Riddle and Ivy Draven were lonely was too much of a monetary burden on some parents. Hence, Jack and Ivy had become better friends over the course of the summer as they were beginning to spend a lot of alone time together. Diego was merciless about it.

"When should I expect grand-godchildren, Urchin?"

Jack blanched and even Tom had to set his foot down this time. "He's fourteen, Hawkins!"

Diego broke down laughing. "What? Does the idea of grandchildren make you feel old?"

Tom contemplated the idea of casting a Killing Curse in the man's general direction. Why did he allow the twit to treat him like this, again?

"I'm out of here," muttered Jack, finally letting the flames drop. "I need a shower and then a quick trip to another dimension."

"Let me know if you find a portal," said Tom with a frown, burrowing deeper into his book. "I could use a vacation, myself. Have another me around for a while to handle the Death Eaters."

Jack waved his hand absentmindedly at his father as he climbed the few steps to his home. "Will do," he said quietly. Then he disappeared behind the front door and the two adults were left alone. After a couple of seconds they heard the teenager's voice again.

"Sorry about the front garden, Alfred!" he called.

They heard a strangled cry of frustration in the distance.

'_That will be Alfred_,' thought Tom, rolling his eyes. Sometimes the old man tended to overreact to Jack's mischief.

Inside the house, Jack tried his best to leave the polished red oak floorboards as pristine as they looked before he stepped on them. The last time he had left soot on them, Maggie had had him on his knees all day scrubbing away at the wood. Usually he wouldn't have followed anyone's orders, but his father had been home that day and had agreed with Maggie's idea of punishment. He had said something about learning to not leave a trail or evidence or something. His father could be a paranoid old man sometimes.

There were two grand wooden staircases leading upstairs, standing on opposite sides of the foyer and curving inward. In between were three arches, charmed so each lead to different sections of the house. Overhead hung a magnificent crystal chandelier. The walls were painted white. Broad windows let the sun in. It looked like anything but the entrance to the Dark Prince's home.

Jack took the staircase on his right, like he always did. His feet moved almost automatically toward his room while his mind cursed his godfather. When he finally reached the door, he stepped inside and threw himself on his bed rather than heading for the shower. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for his heart beat to slow down. It had been a long, fruitless training session again. Lately, all of them were.

He sighed. He couldn't help it. Firewielding was all about concentration, and these days he found himself lacking in it. His mind often wandered to the events of a month before and what they could mean for the future. A month since he had lost the Violet Key, and something had yet to happen. The world wasn't falling apart. The sky was free of fireballs. No gigantic monster had arisen from the ocean to destroy their cities. It was all a little anticlimactic. He had expected the world to end within a few days of losing the Key, but apparently Laverna and Deimos had another idea.

_Deimos._

Jack turned on his side and stared at the open window instead. The Shade was something else occupying his mind. His fellow Shades had chosen one of Jack's old friends as a host. He had to admit it had been a good choice… Damien's body would provide Deimos with strength and speed beyond a human's, and like Laverna had pointed out, with the added bonus that Jack wouldn't be able to bring himself to harm him. Not that he would stand a chance against him in a fight.

For the last month he had been plagued with nightmares about it, but he was too proud to let anyone know he wasn't getting much sleep because of them. Most of them started out like distorted memories of his brief stay in labour camps… sometimes they were about Sarah, others about Vincent, sometimes about himself; but the most recurrent were obviously about Damien. A common denominator was that all three of them blamed him for their fates. Sarah blamed him for being sold on like cattle, Vincent blamed him for the punishment that took his life, and Damien resented him for leaving him to his fate.

Jack closed his eyes. A long time ago he had convinced himself that none of that had been his fault… but now he wasn't so sure… what if it was? He remembered Vincent's last night alive. They had been about to try another escape; he remembered Sarah –four years older than them- trying to talk them out of it. Jack had brushed her off, so convinced that this time their plan would work. He had talked Vincent into trying.

So childish of him. So arrogant. Of course they had been caught, just like Sarah had said they would be. Vincent had claimed leadership, and was punished more severely than Jack was. So severely, that by the next morning Vincent was dead. The scars on Jack's back were a souvenir from that failed escape attempt. Sarah, merely an accomplice, had also been punished and then sold, just because the foreman had wanted to teach a lesson to those not willing to give up 'conspiracies'.

More than once he had thought about going back… end it all. But what could a fourteen year old do? The only important connection he had was his father, and he wouldn't be bothered. He had other things to worry about. But maybe later, when he was older, stronger, he would return.

'_To do what, idiot? Kill the culprits? Dismantle the entire trade?'_ hissed that annoying little voice in the back of his head. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to will it away. He didn't know if he could bring himself to kill again. He still wasn't entirely sure of how he should feel for killing Wormtail; aside from it being a deplorable mistake, his father didn't seem to care at all about Jack's mental state. Tom had not once asked Jack if he was coping, and had apparently forbidden Diego from doing so, because his godfather hadn't mentioned the murder either.

As usual, Tom's idea of punishing Jack involved learning. Aside from forcing him to cope with the guilt and confusion on his own –because yes, unlike his father, Jack was capable of feeling remorse- the Dark Lord had assigned him an entire section of their library to read over the summer. At first, Jack had thought it was a rather light punishment… considering the kinds of punishments his father usually handed out. But as May turned into June, and July being just around the corner, Jack had started feeling claustrophobic. Filling up his head with so much information in so little time had his mind spinning; he'd come across truly hideous and macabre rituals, fatal curses that were far worse than the Killing Curse –melting the victim's insides, flesh-eating curses- poisons and antidotes, and even the spell for making Inferi. All of them with gruesome illustrations.

It was morbidly fascinating, and in a twisted way comforting. He felt a little better for having used the Killing curse on Wormtail, and not one of these things he was reading about. He was sure not even Ingoldstadt would teach these curses in its Dark Arts class. So was this his father's way of comforting him? Or was his father subtly telling him what a wuss he was for not using a worse curse on the traitor?

A thump startled Jack out of his thoughts. He turned his head to find the source, and saw Horus had left his perch and landed on his desk. The falcon was watching him curiously amidst books. His desk was such a mess; quills, rolls of parchment, open books, bottles of ink, empty candy wrappings. He always told himself he would tidy up, but he never got down to it. Speaking of which…

He rolled out of his bed and finally set about doing what he was supposed to. He had to be at Ivy's house soon.

Half an hour later he was ready to go. He avoided the other occupants of the house out of fear of teasing. They just wouldn't leave the Ivy issue alone. He grumbled all the way to the street; at least Ivy's house wasn't so far away, so he wouldn't have to walk so much. He couldn't wait until he could Apparate. Maybe he should get one of those gliders that were up for sale… he'd rather have one of those than a broom. He sighed. If only he could bring Ayax home…

It was at moments like this that he wished he were a normal boy. He would be able to connect his house to Ivy's through the Floo Network, but noooo, he had to be the Dark Prince, and his house had to remain a secret. Curse the heavens.

He walked leisurely, trying not to attract attention to himself. The rumour that he was alive was out, and while it was just a rumour, he didn't feel like confirming it. He doubted people would recognize him on the street, but one couldn't be too careful these days. Every now and then he looked around him for anything suspicious. Even though Laverna had said he was not important to them anymore, he had the feeling that she would be looking for him to finish the job. He almost wished that Tersias would call him so he could learn to fight properly; that way he would surely survive an encounter with her. He hoped.

Jack sighed nervously as he approached the gates of Draven Manor. He knew Ivy was expecting him, but her family still made him a little nervous. Although, except for Ivy's brother, the Dravens seemed to like him. Usually he would have thought that the reason for that was his Dark Prince status, but Ivy was the only one in her family who knew him as Jack Riddle. To the others he was just Daniel McKnight, like to the rest of the world. Maybe it was just her brother's jealousy.

He stopped before the gates with a pang of realization. Maybe, like Diego, they thought that he and Ivy were some kind of item. He stared up at the manor and held his breath. He and Ivy? Together?

He tried to get a feel of the idea but he couldn't fully grasp it. He did like Ivy, she was a pretty girl and they got along very well. She made him laugh, and he made her laugh. He'd had a hard time explaining to her why he'd disappeared in the middle of the night when he'd fallen into the Shades' trap. He'd given her an account of everything that had happened to him. He'd decided that he trusted her enough to let her know about the Violet Key, but when it came to Pettigrew's murder… he just couldn't bring himself to tell her. What would she think of him? She'd hate him.

"Can I help you?"

Jack looked up and found Ivy's butler at the gate. He cleared his throat and stood straighter. "I'm here to see Ivy."

"Right, Mr. McKnight," he said, recognizing him. "This way, please," he added, opening the gate for him.

Jack stepped through and walked behind the butler toward the front door. The house was located in the innermost ring of the city, which meant that Ivy's parents were either part of a powerful bloodline, or at least one of them worked in the government. The Emperor's palace rose just in front of the manor, which meant that Ivy's house was in shadow most of the time. The butler led Jack through the front door and stopped abruptly.

"Wait here," he said, leaving Jack to himself in the foyer. Jack shrugged and looked around. Ivy's house was similar to his own; they also had a library and a studio, but they didn't have a music room or enchanted arches. The arches in Jack's house had been his father's personal touch to save space.

"Dan?"

Jack looked up and saw Ivy looking down at him from the top of the stairs. He smirked. "Hey."

Ivy smiled and trotted downstairs to greet him. She reached him and Jack stiffened when she hugged him. "Hello, Riddle," she whispered in his ear.

Jack's mouth went dry. "Um... hello, Draven?"

Ivy laughed at him. "Do I make you uncomfortable?" she asked, pulling back with a mischievous smile. Jack shrugged slightly and Ivy laughed again. "Come on," she told him, beckoning him to follow her. "Dad is busy with someone in his studio, so we'll have the sitting room to ourselves."

"Why can't we just go up to your room?" Jack asked her, knowing full well that her father didn't like her showing boys upstairs.

"You know my dad," she replied tiredly, shooting a look at the studio's door as they passed it.

Jack snorted slightly. "I promise not to rape you."

Ivy laughed and opened the glass doors to the sitting room. Here was where they usually spent the day when he visited her, though they were rarely alone. The sitting room had a balcony where her father liked to work, and while it wasn't all that uncomfortable that he was just a few paces off minding his own business, Jack did have to censor himself a lot. He couldn't tease Ivy, and she couldn't call him by his real name; he couldn't sit too close to her either, or he would give off the wrong impression to her dad. No, the real bother came when her little brother walked into the room and refused to leave. Isaac would sit with them and glare at Jack the whole time.

"So, what have you been up to?" she asked him, jerking him out of his thoughts.

Jack shrugged. "Just here and there," he replied evasively. "Haven't really gone out, what with the rumours and my godfather drilling me with Firewielding moves."

Ivy grimaced. "I've heard," she said, plopping down in an armchair. "Not on the street, but my dad hears things in the Palace and he tells us."

"I didn't know your dad worked in the Palace," replied Jack, surprised. "What has he heard?" he asked curiously, leaning on an armchair himself.

"He's a member of the Wizengamot," she explained. "He spends a lot of time working with Caius Vayu, who is Chief Warlock and also the Emperor's right hand man, so basically he knows what's going on everywhere. He says Harry Potter swears you're alive, and that Dumbledore is backing him up. England's Minister of Magic takes them for nutcases."

Jack laughed. "Can't blame him."

Ivy shook her head at him. "This is serious, Jack. Albus Dumbledore will be looking for you, and if he finds you he'll surely take you away forever," she said sullenly.

Jack waved off her concern. "Don't worry about Dumbledore. If he finds me, my father will bring me back."

Ivy's face darkened. "How do you know?"

Jack sighed. "My father's a bastard most of the time, but he won't let Dumbledore have me. He'd come out of hiding first," he replied. "Now, can we please avoid the subject?" he whispered urgently. "I don't want to be overheard."

Ivy didn't look happy but she did as he said. "Fine. What has your godfather been teaching you?"

He groaned. "Barriers and shields. They're impossible," he complained. "They would be easier if I could concentrate, but you-know-what is still on my mind."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "Of course, you can't expect getting over something like that so fast. Any new developments?"

Jack shook his head. "None. Everything's been quiet."

"Not the calm before the storm, is it?" she asked with a wince.

Jack sighed heavily. "It might be. All this month I've been waiting for something to happen. _Anything_," he added anxiously, glancing at the balcony and the outside world.

Ivy shifted in her seat. Things had seemed so simple before Jack had told her his big secret; Shades and Keystones and conspiracies and several more things that she didn't fully understand. What she _could _understand, however, was that Jack's life was in danger, and that a powerful magical artefact had been stolen from him. On the rare occasion that they went out, it was all he could talk about. She figured he couldn't vent his frustration to anyone else.

They stopped talking when they heard the studio's door open. It was just across the hall, so through the glass doors they saw Ivy's father and another man exit the room. Nicholas Draven was the first of the two to notice them, and he opened the doors to greet them. His companion didn't seem thrilled.

"Daniel! I didn't know you would be coming today," he said cheerfully. "How do you do?"

Jack stood up straighter, and shook Mr. Draven's outstretched hand. "Good afternoon, Mr. Draven. I'm doing fine, thank you for asking. You?"

Mr. Draven shrugged slightly. "Busy, as can be expected in these difficult times. As a matter of fact, I was just finishing up a meeting," he explained, stepping aside so his companion came into view. He was a tall, thin man with grey hair. He had sharp brown eyes that reminded Jack of an eagle's –or a vulture's now that he thought about it- and wore the plum robes of the Wizengamot. "This is Secretary Caius Vayu, Chief Warlock and Imperial Advisor. Caius, these are my daughter Ivy and her friend, Daniel McKnight," he introduced them.

Ivy stood up from her seat. "How do you do?" she asked politely.

Caius Vayu nodded once in her direction. "Fine, thank you. You father speaks a lot of you. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Ivy beamed at her father. Jack smirked slightly and gave the Secretary another long look that the man returned. The Secretary stared at him suspiciously for the longest time before speaking again. Jack's smirk was replaced by a frown.

"Nicholas, I do not intend to be rude, but the Emperor will be expecting me soon," he said slowly, his eyes still set on Jack, as if he were drinking in every detail. "Shall we resume our business tomorrow?"

Mr. Draven cleared his throat and took his eyes from the two wizards. "Absolutely. Right this way, Caius. I'll show you to the door."

The two men turned around, but Mr. Draven shot Jack one last curious glance before they left the sitting room. The door clicked shut behind them and Jack shuddered.

"So that was interesting," commented Ivy slowly.

"Awkward," argued Jack, rubbing his arms. "I feel violated."

Ivy laughed. "Don't be so overdramatic. Vayu just found you interesting."

Jack scowled. "Yes, but why? Don't think he recognized me, do you? He does work with Emperor Tersias."

Ivy's smile fell. "I hope not. If he did, and he tells the Emperor, Dumbledore will hear about it and he'll surely send someone to investigate," she mused, biting her lip. "Maybe you should lie low… stay home. I can go visit you instead."

"You know I can't tell you the location of my house," he replied bitterly. He let himself fall on an armchair and stared off into space. It was the first time since he had run into Potter that he worried about Dumbledore's long arm. "Besides, I'll be leaving soon."

"What?" she cried. "When? Where are you going?"

Jack leaned forward in his seat to check for anyone that might overhear. There was no one on sight. He grimaced. "I'll be going to England again," he whispered darkly. "I don't know exactly when."

Ivy seemed worried. "But you'll be going straight into Dumbledore's arms that way," she whispered back. "Why do you have to go?"

"Because…" he started, pausing to gather his thoughts. "Because my father introduced me to only a handful of his followers. After what happened with Wormtail, he's being extra careful about who of his old followers to trust. He's had the Malfoys, Nott and someone else questioning the followers that I haven't met yet for the entire month. They've gathered a few more that they considered trustworthy, and it's time they see my father. He… he says I should be there, too," he explained quietly.

Now Ivy looked horrified. "What is your father planning?"

Jack's face darkened. "You know I couldn't tell you even if I knew."

There was only so long Ivy could hold his suddenly cold gaze, and after a moment she had to look away. Jack closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Sorry about that," he apologized. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

She shifted her position and looked at him again. "Don't worry. I-I understand. I just worry about you… walking around Ebur on your own, and now going back to England," she said shyly.

Jack glanced at her. "I do look over my shoulder occasionally, you know?" he joked lightly. She didn't look happy, so he elaborated. "Fine, you might be right… I've been leaving my house sort of recklessly for the entire month. Perhaps I should stay in for a while… Fudge is saying what a nutcase Dumbledore is, but if Vayu knows who I am… I doubt Fudge would dare calling Vayu a nutcase. He doesn't seem like the type of man to take criticism lightly."

Ivy nodded. "I know. He _was_ kinda scary, wasn't he?"

This time it was Jack who laughed. "No he wasn't!" he cried. "He gave me the creeps for staring at me like that, but he's just another old guy."

She huffed. "Why are you boys always trying to look brave?"

"It's not bravery!" argued Jack, reaching out towards her with his hand. "The man himself isn't scary looking. He looks like a bird!"

Ivy burst out laughing and took his hand. "Some imagination you have," she said, sniggering. He pulled her towards him and she ended up sitting on the armrest of his armchair, where she sobered up. "I thought he looked like a tortoise," she confessed.

"And _I'm_ the one with the imagination?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh, hush," she said with a giggle, smacking him on the back of his head as she did so. Jack laughed and rubbed the sore spot.

"Ouch, woman!" he complained, pretending to be in pain. "That hurt!"

Ivy huffed. "That was the whole point, genius."

They laughed again and kept teasing each other, making the most out of their time alone. Jack couldn't wait until they were back in Ingoldstadt and he could wander around the grounds without looking over his shoulder, visit the village with his friends, and maybe even ask Ivy somewhere without having to worry about her family watching his every move. He knew that in Ingoldstadt he would be safe from Dumbledore, and any plan Laverna and her fellow Shades could cook up.

He hoped.


	3. The Order of the Phoenix

**A/N:** Back again :P I just caught up with time. I swear I lose track of time with all the stuff I have to do... as far as I was concerned it wasn't so long since the last update... then I checked today's date and the date of the last update... cheesus. So here you go, I'll stop rambling :P

**

* * *

Chapter 2 – ****The Order of the Phoenix**

* * *

The house was everything he had been told it would be: a shabby old place filled with old trinkets: remnants of its old grandeur. It didn't matter how much Mrs. Weasley did to clean it, it always seemed dusty. They had temporarily moved in to make it liveable for the Order of the Phoenix, and already Sirius couldn't wait to leave. To his dismay, Kristy and Orion were fascinated with their father's old house, and were excited to be staying where all the action was. Paige, on the other hand, constantly wanted to return to her own home.

However, Harry was annoyed. Not because he would be spending the rest of the summer in Grimmauld Place, no. He had the Weasleys, Hermione, Ethan, and Kristy to keep him busy.

No, it was the adults that made Harry angry. They insisted on keeping them out of the loop concerning Order business, even though Harry had faced Voldemort more times than many of them had, and even though it had been him who told them the Dark Prince was alive. Something else that annoyed him, was that Harry had been concerned about the strangers that had killed Cedric, and had hoped that Dumbledore would be able to tell him who they were. And indeed, Dumbledore knew, he had just chosen not to tell Harry, claiming that they weren't something he should be concerned about, and that the Order would deal with them in their own time. He should have asked Riddle when he had the chance. Ironically enough, _he_ would have told him.

"Harry! Would you watch Ethan for me? The meeting is about to start… we're just waiting for Dedalus-"

Harry sighed. "Yes, mum," he said tiredly, shooting a tired glance at the four year old squirming in his adoptive mother's grasp.

Lily handed the boy over to his adoptive brother, who took his hand and led the way out of the dining room, while Lily started walking in the direction of the basement.

"There's no chance you'll tell me what the meeting is about, is there?" Harry called over his shoulder.

Lily stopped and turned slightly. "Severus is back," she whispered to him. "He says it's bad… very bad, but that's all I can tell you, Harry. I'll tell you what I can after the meeting. You know how it is."

Harry grimaced but he nodded. At least his mum was passing him a little bit of information, which was more than he could say for Mrs. Weasley, who was completely tight lipped on all Order matters.

"Come on, Ethan. We have to go upstairs," he whispered to the boy, trying not to wake up Mrs. Black's portrait.

"Why?" cried Ethan in his small voice.

Harry put a hand over the boy's mouth to muffle his protests, and looked up at the curtains hiding the troublesome portrait. They stirred but didn't fall apart. He sighed in relief.

"Ethan," he whispered urgently. "You know you can't raise your voice in this part of the house. Do you want Sirius' mum to start screaming?"

Ethan's eyes widened in comprehension, and he shook his head vigorously. Harry shook his head at him, and took his hand from his mouth. "Good, now let's go upstairs. Don't you want to see Orion?"

"Yes!" he whispered excitedly.

Harry smiled at him and started climbing the stairs. "Then let's go."

Ethan climbed the stairs happily. Orion's playful and restless nature appealed to him, and this was very good in Harry's opinion, because that meant that Orion could keep the boy entertained, and Ethan didn't have to go exploring in the still dangerous house. They had no idea of what things had been breeding here over the years, or what cursed objects they could find, all of which would look like toys to a four-year-old.

They arrived at the second landing and Ethan broke free of Harry's grasp. He ran into their room, and Harry heard a chorus of 'hellos' from his friends inside. He hurried into the room, and found Ethan already sitting on Orion's lap when he stepped in. He laughed.

"'Lo, Harry," greeted Ron. "So what's going on downstairs?"

"Yes, tell!" prompted Ginny, patting the empty space beside her so Harry would sit. She and Kristy were sharing his bed; Ron, Hermione, Orion and Ethan were sharing Ron's.

Harry sat down and shrugged. "Didn't find out much. Mum says Snape is back from his mission, and that he has very bad news. She said she would tell me what she could once the meeting is over."

"My dad said the same," piped in Kristen, leaning forward in her spot at Ginny's other side so that she could look at Harry. "He did let slip that it was the Malfoys that have been inviting him over to their manor."

"The Malfoys?" asked Orion suddenly, pausing his game with Ethan.

Ron huffed. "If there's anyone involved with Dark Wizards, that's them. They probably know where to find the prince."

"Do you think it's only him that came back?" asked Hermione at large. The others looked quizzically at her. She rolled her eyes. "Snape brought back bad news. What could be worse than the Dark Prince being at large?"

"Voldemort," replied Harry without missing a beat. His friends cringed. Harry ignored them.

Hermione shuddered involuntarily. "Exactly."

Ron laughed. "Hermione, I know you're really smart, but saying You-Know-Who is back is quite the stretch."

Hermione looked affronted. "It's not impossible! Ask Harry."

Everyone in the room turned their heads towards him, and Harry blushed. _'Thanks, Hermione…' _he thought bitterly. "Well, he's not all that dead. He just needs his body."

"You don't think he got one… do you?" Kristy asked him slowly.

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Well… my scar does hurt a bit more than before, and I've had a couple of odd dreams. But nothing else that could mean he got his body back."

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe that just means he's getting a bit stronger?"

Ron shot her a sarcastic look. "Yeah, like that's any better-"

"No option that includes _him_ is good," cut Kristy, before the siblings could start fighting. Ginny looked like she had been about to retort. "We'll just have to wait until the meeting is over, and then we'll know more."

Orion scowled. "I hate waiting."

"Why?" asked Ethan innocently, looking up at the older boy with large brown eyes.

Orion looked down at him. "Because I have no patience."

Ethan tilted his head. "Why?"

Orion took a calming breath and muttered something that sounded like _'not this again'_. "Not now, Ethan."

"But why?"

"Can't we just play a quiet game, Ethan?" Orion asked tiredly. "I want to listen to their conversation."

Ethan looked disappointed but he got the hint, and left Orion's lap. The teenagers watched him walk to Harry's messy trunk and pull out some parchment and ink. Harry sighed in resignation when Ethan settled on the floor to draw. He would have to clean the mess his adoptive brother was sure to make.

"So what now?" asked Ron.

Ginny sighed. "Mum wanted us to clean the drawing room," she said grudgingly. "But I don't want to."

"We'll never finish cleaning!" complained Kristy. "And I swear Kreacher is just making everything dirtier."

Hermione jumped to the elf's rescue. "He's old. He doesn't know what he's doing."

Orion scowled again. "Of course he knows! I can't believe he belongs to us now… you'd think he'd be a bit nicer to family."

"Maybe he would be, if you were all nicer to him," argued Hermione, making everyone groan.

"Please, Hermione," begged Ron, rubbing his eyes. "No spew nonsense right now."

"It's S.P.E.W., Ron!"

"Whatever."

When she saw no one was going to take her side, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. Ron rolled his eyes and made a crazy gesture. Orion sniggered.

Ginny scoffed at them. "Leave her alone. Just because she believes in something doesn't give you the right to laugh at her."

"Thank you, Ginny!" gasped Hermione, facing the group again.

"Doesn't mean I like Kreacher, though," stated Ginny hastily.

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms again, but this time she didn't look away. The group laughed.

* * *

Two floors below them, Snape had intertwined his fingers and was looking around the room at the many faces looking at him in turn. They showed various degrees of worry, like that one time all those years ago, when he had told them the Dark Lord had an heir. It gave him an odd sense of déjà vu, considering what he had to tell them this time.

"Severus, if you please," Dumbledore prompted him, staring calmly at the Order.

Snape took a moment to arrange his thoughts before finally speaking. "As all of you should be aware of… although I would not be surprised if some of you are not," he drawled, staring pointedly at James and Sirius, who glared at him, "Lucius Malfoy has been inviting me to his manor throughout the last month. At first he was interested in hearing all about what Potter had seen in the graveyard. Eventually, talk turned to the Dark Lord and his ideals-"

"And then he questioned you about your allegiance, and we made him believe you were on his side," cut James Potter, annoyed. "We know all of this, Snape; you told us the story in past meetings. What happened the last time you met?"

Snape shot him a venomous look while Sirius disguised a snort as a cough. Lily shot Snape an apologetic look that seemed to soothe him.

"He does not know where the Dark Prince is, if that is what you were asking, Potter," he spat. "The boy managed to disappear again after the episode in the graveyard."

Sirius seemed to deflate. "But we were so sure Malfoy had him!" he cried. "He took in that Lestrange girl when her father was locked up in Azkaban. Why not his master's brat?"

Snape didn't appreciate the interruption. "Has it occurred to you that maybe the Dark Lord didn't trust Malfoy enough?"

"But where would he go?" asked Hestia Jones, before a fight could break out. "He has no family left, no guardian…"

"If he has been alive all these years, he must have been staying with someone," piped in Emmeline Vance. "He could have easily gone back to them."

"Which is what I'm trying to get at," replied Snape through clenched teeth.

The two women exchanged sheepish looks and settled back into silence.

Snape surveyed the rest of the Order with a glower, half expecting them to say something else. Once he was satisfied that no one else would talk, he continued. "He's back," he said slowly, savouring the words like he had the last time. "The Dark Lord has returned. That is who the Dark Prince went back to."

Just as he had been expecting, his words were met with stunned silence. At first they stared wide-eyed at him. Only Dumbledore had responded by frowning and looking down, thinking hard.

"Voldemort's… he-he's _back?_" stammered Lupin.

His question broke the spell that seemed to have fallen over the kitchen, and everyone started speaking at once.

"Not possible!"

"How?"

"When did this happen?"

"How can you be sure?"

Snape rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples while he waited for his comrades to shut up. They were so predictable. They had the same reaction to the Lord's return that they had had to the Prince's existence. Sometimes he preferred the Death Eaters' raised eyebrows or their cries of outrage… anything that didn't resemble a panic.

Finally, Dumbledore decided he wanted to hear more. "Severus!" he called through the racket, making everyone quiet down. "Can we trust Lucius' word?"

Snape put down his hands. "I did not just listen to Lucius," he replied slowly, the silent Order members drinking in his words. "The Dark Lord wanted to see us. It appears there were others that Lucius had been questioning without my knowledge. Jugson, Mulciber, Yaxley and Gibbon were there. It appears the Dark Lord is investigating each of his past followers. He mentioned that several others turned out to be traitors." Thankfully, no one spoke this time, waiting for him to say more. He paused for a moment, not sure about the next part. "He looks… _different_."

"Different?" growled Moody. "Different how?"

Snape pinned a glare on the paranoid ex-Auror. "Unrecognizable," he drawled. "I did not believe it was him at first. The Cruciatus, however… convinced me."

"But what does he look like?" pressed Kingsley, purposefully ignoring the Cruciatus comment. "We must be able to recognize him if we come across him. Merlin knows we don't want to get into a fight with him thinking he's just another Death Eater."

The others at the table mumbled their agreement. Snape pulled a face.

"He looks like his old self," he said at last. "Except for the red eyes."

Dumbledore intertwined his fingers and thought for a moment. "The way he looked like when he was a student, Severus?"

Snape grimaced. "Older."

Some Order members exchanged befuddled looks. It was hard to imagine the Dark Lord as just another student.

"Maybe this will come as a surprise to you, Snape, but we didn't go to Hogwarts at the same time as Voldemort," said Sirius after a while. "We have no idea what he used to look like."

"I did," said McGonagall suddenly, not meeting anyone's eyes. "We went to Hogwarts together. Tall and lean, black hair, brown eyes, pale skin… handsome to a fault."

"Figures," muttered Tonks darkly. "Of course the bad guy had to be good looking."

Some of the Order members chuckled nervously. Most were still silent, trying to process the information. Dumbledore still had to emerge from his deep thinking state. They had just been expecting to find the Dark Prince at Malfoy Manor; they had not been prepared for this.

"And the boy?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "What about him?"

Dumbledore raised his tired gaze to meet Snape's. "Are you certain he went back to his father?"

Snape's lips curled into a slight scowl. "He was there, too. Quiet. Perhaps a little too much. He seemed to be lost in thought, rather than paying attention to his surroundings or to the Dark Lord. Physically, they greatly resemble each other, but what I could gather from watching him is that the brat doesn't seem too interested in the cause."

Dumbledore's eyes lit up. "But, Severus, that is wonderful news!"

"How is that wonderful?" asked Dedalus Diggle, completely befuddled.

"How is it even relevant?" asked Sturgis Podmore.

Moody growled at them. "It's important because it means You-Know-Who might not get help from his own son later on!"

"That does not mean the boy will turn on the Dark Lord, either," argued Snape through clenched teeth. He was tired of being interrupted. "He is loyal to his father."

The remark did little to diminish the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes. "Alas, Severus, amidst such grave news we must find a glimmer of hope," he stated lightly, making Snape purse his lips. For once, several Order members didn't seem reassured by Dumbledore's wisdom.

"And what do we do now?" asked James darkly. "We were not counting on this. We knew Voldemort's return was a possibility, but-"

"He was never too obvious about it," finished Sirius for his best friend. "So unlike him, too. We never saw it coming."

Arthur Weasley cleared his throat, drawing all attention to himself. "How are we going to break the news to the community? They won't even believe the boy is alive, never mind You-Know-Who!"

The Order exchanged dark glances. Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair and intertwined his long fingers. He seemed lost in thought again.

"My dear friends," he said heavily after a long moment of meditation, "as much as it weighs on me, we cannot tell the world the truth. Not yet."

"_WHAT?_" cried several voices at once.

"But, Dumbledore!" said Molly Weasley. "They deserve to know!"

"Even if we're not believed at firs'," boomed Hagrid over the worried chatter, "t'will eventually become obvious tha' he's back. The people have to be prepared!"

"But what about Severus?" cut Lily, through everyone's conversations. "If the truth gets out without Voldemort doing something rather obvious to give away his return, he'll know someone talked. If he figures out it was Severus, he will not only kill him: we will lose all Intel on Voldemort's plans and movements."

The room was swallowed by an uneasy silence again. Snape mentally thanked Lily for her quick thinking.

"Thank you, Lily," replied Dumbledore softly.

"We could… spread a rumour," suggested Tonks tentatively.

Kingsley shook his head. "Wouldn't work," he argued. "You-Know-Who has been too careful for even a rumour to get out. Even _we_ wouldn't have heard a thing if not for Snape," he told the room at large. "We would have been distracted with the son; it was perfect. We would have been taken completely by surprise."

"So what do we do?" wheezed Elphias Doge. "We just wait until He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named slips? Until he makes a mistake?"

"He has made mistakes in the past," said Alkdilien Black suddenly, speaking for the first time. "He might make one again."

Sirius sighed exasperatedly. "Babe, this is Voldemort. He will not repeat past mistakes, trust me," he replied, frustrated. He ran a hand through his hair, and snapped. "There must be something we can do!"

"And we will!" stated Dumbledore above the noise. His comrades looked at him, waiting for him to continue. "We will do exactly what he is doing," he said. "We will quietly recruit allies –people we trust- make our numbers grow. He does not expect us to know about his return, and when he finally decides to strike, we will be ready for him."

Some members exchanged uneasy looks, but no one else seemed to have a better idea, so they mumbled their agreement. Dumbledore sighed, worried once more. "Alas, at least Cornelius has to know. I will break the news to him," he offered.

Moody scoffed. "That pompous fool won't believe you, Dumbledore," he said gruffly. "Don't waste your time."

Remus leaned back in his chair. "He's right, Dumbledore. And Fudge might let something slip to the press," he warned him. "Better to leave it alone. Why not try Madame Bones? She would listen to you."

A murmur of agreement went around the room. They'd had enough of the Minister's tongue-lashing because he wouldn't believe that Jack Riddle was alive. They didn't need him to ridicule them further in the newspapers because the man was too thick and arrogant to believe that the Dark Lord was back.

Dumbledore seemed to be thinking it over. The gesture alone meant that he might just take Remus up on his offer. Not even he liked dealing with Fudge more than was strictly necessary.

"Very well," he said at last. "Think of more people who could believe us, and can keep the truth quiet. Off the top of my head I can think of a few colleagues that can help. Let us only hope that they have the heart to join us," he finished heavily.

"Dumbledore?" said Lily quietly. "What do we tell the children?"

The parents present directed their gazes toward the old wizard. Dumbledore didn't seem to need to think his answer twice. "We tell them the truth," he replied. "We might not be able to tell them everything we discuss at the meetings, but this they have to know."

Molly Weasley didn't seem happy. "But Dumbledore-"

"Weren't you just saying how the people have to know, Molly?" cut Sirius swiftly. "That includes our kids. All of our kids."

Molly turned on him. "Why are you so eager to scare them?"

Sirius scowled. "Scaring them is not the point! Maybe you prefer to keep your children in the dark, but I like mine to know what's out there so that they're careful!"

"I have to agree," piped in James. "Besides, Harry would kill me if I kept this from him," he muttered darkly.

"But-"

"They're right, Molly," said Mr. Weasley softly. "The children are tough. They can take it."

Mrs. Weasley looked around the table for support, but most were looking away, evidently trying not to get involved. She huffed. "Fine. Tell them. But know that I'm against it!" she declared, fuming.

"They will take it in stride, Molly," Dumbledore reassured her kindly. "They will thank you for letting them know."

Mrs. Weasley crossed her arms over her chest and huffed again, but she didn't look as affronted as before. The tension in the room went down dramatically, but it was quickly replaced by collective uneasiness. Things had just turned a little more complicated…. As if Harry's story wasn't baffling enough, now they had to silently build an army without knowing when the enemy would strike. As for recruiting in itself, who would believe them? Who would _want _to believe them?

"Dumbledore?" called Lily tentatively.

The old wizard lifted his gaze and offered her a benign smile. "Yes, Lily?"

"What about Harry's kidnappers? Aren't they a threat, too?" she asked cautiously. "You haven't spoken much about them."

Attention turned to Dumbledore, and the old wizard joined his fingers at the tips; something he did when he was thinking.

"I have not yet figured out why they would come after Harry," he replied finally, guessing Lily's real concern. "There must be something that both he and Jack have in common."

James leaned forward. "They took the blood of both. Whatever it is, it's in the blood."

Dumbledore smiled. "Very good, James. But that still gives us no clue as to why they needed the blood of both boys. It is my assumption, however, that we are not in any immediate danger from them, as the only reason why they would come to England is for Harry. Their main concern appears to be Lemuria."

"So you know who they are," half questioned Sirius, leaning forward as well.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Shades," he replied simply.

A murmur of alarm went around the table. Even Snape snapped out of his bored façade and fixed his eyes on Dumbledore.

"You don't seem too upset, my friend," stated Elphias Doge severely. "I understand the main concern is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but these spirits are no small issue either."

Dumbledore tilted his head at his old friend's challenge. "I have given them thought, Elphias. I am in direct contact with Lemurian rulers that know the most about them, mainly Emperor Tersias and King Otto, whose countries have suffered the most from their attacks. It all points to Harry's kidnapping being an isolated issue. They were more concerned about the interest the Shades could have had in Jack Riddle –for being Lemurian- than about their brief stay in Europe. Currently they have gone dark; Lemuria reports no movement from them. They are certainly planning something, but it is extremely unlikely that it includes us."

"They would have still killed Harry," protested James. "What if they come after him again, and we're not ready for something like that? What if they decide to clean up?"

Lily held on to his hand and stared expectantly at Dumbledore. Dumbledore stared back at them in turn, and then sighed heavily.

"James," he said softly, "fighting a Shade is not like fighting Voldemort," he explained, while most of the people in the room flinched. "To be honest with you, it is an incredible miracle that both Harry and Jack survived that night at the graveyard. There is hardly anyone that can stand up to a Shade- even I would think twice before fighting one. _Lord Voldemort_ was –by all means and purposes- killed by one."

James chuckled humourlessly. "So what are you saying? That if they return there is nothing we can do about it?"

Dumbledore's smile was a sad one. "Next to nothing, James. Next to nothing," he whispered heavily. "However, their attention is set on Lemuria, not on Europe, and certainly not on Harry," he added, his voice stronger than before. "As I said, it is unlikely that we will be pulled into the conflict, but nevertheless, I believe we should get ready to lend Lemuria a hand, because they will need it." He made a pause to regard the Order members. They were scared and nervous, but he could see the determination burning in their eyes, and it made him proud of them. "Until then," he continued, in a lighter tone, "we concern ourselves with Voldemort's movements. Now, _him_. _He_ will attack us, that is most certain. So do not fill your heads with Lemuria's concerns, and focus on the matter at hand."

He saw his comrades exchange glances, looking sullen. His eyes twinkled. "That will be Voldemort," he added.

As he expected, most of the members flinched or shuddered, but James and Sirius cheered up a little, knowing full well that the old Headmaster was only teasing them. Dumbledore beamed. Ah, what a family. What an odd, disproportionate, wonderful family.

* * *

With the passing weeks, Harry found himself daydreaming more and more about Hogwarts. It would be a treat just to leave this dusty, musty house, where half of the cupboards were still bolted shut, and Kreacher wheezed insults out of the shadows as you passed. To make matters worse, now that everyone had gotten used to the idea that Voldemort was back, living at the headquarters wasn't nearly as exciting or interesting as Harry would have liked. While it was true that members came and went, their parents made sure they couldn't hear anything about what was happening.

Luke had arrived with Sirius and Alkdilien one day, but aside from that, everything that happened in the house revolved around cleaning. Finally, on the last day of the holidays, as Harry cleaned up Hedwig's owl droppings from the top of the wardrobe, Ron entered their bedroom carrying a couple of envelopes.

"Booklists are finally here," he said, throwing one of them to Harry. "About time, too. Thought they had forgotten."

Harry cleaned the last of the droppings and threw his rubbish bag into a bin. He then hopped down from his chair, opened his letter and found the usual pieces of parchment. He pulled out the booklist and read through it slowly.

"Only two new books," he said. "Defensive Magical Theory? So Dumbledore finally found a new teacher."

_Crack._

Fred and George Apparated right beside Harry. He was so used to it by now that he didn't even flinch.

"We were just talking about the same thing," said Fred conversationally.

"Not surprising that it took him so long, when you look at what's happened to the last ones," said George.

"Two sacked by the board, one traumatized for life, and one locked in a trunk for nine months," said Harry, counting them off on his fingers. "Yeah, I see what you mean. Though Lockhart did get another best-seller out of it."

"_And _was also exposed as a fraud," reminded him George.

"What's up with you, Ron?" asked Fred.

Ron didn't reply. Harry looked up at him with a slight frown. Ron was standing very still with his mouth slightly open.

"Ron?" said Fred impatiently, moving around Ron to look at the parchment over his shoulder.

Fred's mouth fell open, too.

"Prefect?" he said, staring incredulously at the letter. "_Prefect?_"

George leapt forward and seized the letter from Ron's hands. "No way!"

"Must be a mistake," agreed Fred, joining his twin.

Ron, still silent, took the badge from the envelope, stared at it, and then handed it over to Harry as though asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. Harry took it and looked at the large 'P' and the Gryffindor lion. Well… Lily would be disappointed, but at least James would be proud.

The door banged open and Hermione came tearing into the room. There was also an envelope in her hand.

"Did you – did you get-?"

She spotted the badge in Harry's hand and shrieked. "I knew it! Me too, Harry, me too!"

"No," said Harry quickly, passing the badge back to Ron. "It's Ron, not me."

Hermione seemed confused for a moment. "Ron? But-"

She turned red when Ron looked around at her with a defiant expression on his face. "It's my name on the letter."

Hermione looked thoroughly bewildered. "I well… wow, Ron. Well done! I-"

The door suddenly opened again behind Hermione and Mrs. Weasley backed into the room with a pile of clean clothes. "Ginny said the lists just arrived. If you give them to me I can send for the books to be bought in Diagon Alley, and brought to you while you pack. Speaking of which, Ron, you need new pyjamas. What colour would you like?"

"Red and gold to match his badge," replied Fred, smirking.

"His what?" said Mrs. Weasley absently.

"_Badge,_" repeated Fred, wanting to get it over with. "His shiny new _prefect's badge_."

Mrs. Weasley turned around to stare confusedly at her sons. Ron held up his badge, and Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek like Hermione's.

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! I'm so proud of you! Wait until your father hears, he's going to be so happy-"

"What's with all the racket?" asked Kristy, peeking into the room to investigate.

"Ron's a prefect," replied George automatically.

"What?" she cried out. "Prefect? How?"

Ron shot a glare at her. "Thanks, Kristy, I'm glad we're friends."

Kristy smiled sheepishly and stepped out of the room. "Congratulations, Ron!" she called, before disappearing from view.

"Where do you think you're going? Coward!" called Ron at her.

They just heard Kristy's laugh fade as she trotted down the stairs.

"That girl has the right idea," commented Fred pointing at the door. "Come on, George! We cannot be a part of this celebration."

"I agree, Fred," replied George. "After you?" he asked, showing his twin the door.

"Thank you," replied Fred, striding out of the room with his nose up in the air. George mimicked him, and Mrs. Weasley shook her head disapprovingly at them.

"Never mind them, dear," she told Ron. "Now. Prefect! You must be rewarded for this… what would you like?" she asked.

Ron's eyes lit up. "Could I get a new broom?" he asked her hopefully. Mrs. Weasley's smile faded a bit and Ron hastened to correct himself. "Not a really good one! Just – just a new one, for a change… maybe a Cleansweep?"

Mrs. Wealey hesitated then smiled.

"Of _course _you can… I'd better get going if I have a broom to buy too. I'll see you all later… Little Ronnie, a prefect! And don't forget to pack your trunks!"

She gave Ron another kiss on the cheek, sniffed loudly, and bustled from the room. Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks.

"So…" said Harry tentatively. "Congrats, mate. You too, Hermione. Prefects, wow."

"Thanks," said Hermione. "Erm, Harry… could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They'll be really pleased… I mean, prefect is something they can understand."

For some reason, Harry found he didn't really want to look at his friends. "Yeah, no problem," he said in a hearty voice that didn't sound like him. "Take her!"

Hermione smiled and crossed to the wardrobe to call Hedwig down. Both Ron and Harry watched her exit, then Harry went back to rummaging through his trunk. He felt like he needed to keep himself entertained rather than making conversation with Ron. He had completely forgotten about prefects being chosen in the fifth year. If he _had _remembered, what would he have expected?

_Not this_, said a small truthful voice inside his head.

"Um, Harry?" Ron called tentatively. "You ok, mate?"

Harry stopped moving things around in his trunk and sighed. Was he really going to sulk because Ron had a badge and he didn't? Ron hadn't asked Dumbledore for it. This wasn't Ron's fault… he didn't deserve Harry's jealousy for beating him at something for the first time.

"Yeah, I'm ok," he replied, turning around as he did so. He was glad to find his voice had returned to normal. "Listen, Ron, well done, mate."

Ron deflated slightly. "I never thought it would be me!" he said, shaking his head. "I thought it would be you!"

"Nah, I've caused too much trouble," Harry said with a slight smile.

"Yeah," said Ron, "yeah, I suppose… I suppose your dad and Sirius will be happy, though," he joked.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, they would be," he agreed.

Ron grinned. "So… do we get started on those trunks, or what?"


	4. Home is Where the Homework is

**A/N:** Hello all :P I hope you had a greeeat Christmas (or Hanukkah, if that's the case) and I wish you a very Happy New Year! :D

* * *

**Chapter 3 – ****Home is Where the Homework Is**

* * *

Harry's troubled sleep finally ended when he heard two women hollering downstairs.

"Whassapenning?" he mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"… better hurry up, Mum's going ballistic, she says we're going to miss the train. Luke's already downstairs…" Ron was telling him, but he was already dressed.

There was a lot of commotion in the house. From what he heard as he dressed at top speed, Harry gathered that Fred and George had bewitched their trunks to fly downstairs and knocked Ginny down two flights of stairs. Mrs. Black and Mrs. Weasley were both screaming at the top of their voices.

Hermione came hurrying into the room looking flustered; Hedwig was swaying on her shoulder, and she was carrying a squirming Crookshanks in her arms.

"Mum and Dad just sent Hedwig back" – the owl fluttered over and perched on the top of her cage – "are you ready yet?"

"Nearly – Ginny all right?" Harry asked, shoving on his glasses.

"She's ok," said Hermione.

Harry nodded and led Hedwig inside her cage. "Why haven't we left?" he asked Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Mad-Eye says we have to wait for Sturgis Podmore, or the Guard will be one short. But if we don't leave now, we're going to miss the train."

"WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE, PLEASE!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed and Hermione hurried out of the room. Harry grabbed Hedwig's cage and followed her downstairs. On the way, they ran into Kristy carrying her cat, and Orion carrying his owl, apparently also late. Their grandmother's portrait was howling with rage, but no one was bothering to close the curtains over her.

"Harry, darling, you're coming with me and your dad," called Lily over the repeated screeches of "_MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!" _"Leave your trunk here, Mad-Eye will take care of it!"

Harry exchanged a look with Kristy before starting the trek through the hall. He clambered over the various trunks cluttering the area to get to his mother. She wrenched open the front door and stepped out into the weak September sun. Harry managed to hear Orion yell "Merlin, Grams! Let it go!" before he followed her outside. The door slammed behind them and Mrs. Black's screeches were cut off instantly.

"Finally," Lily sighed. "I couldn't take any more of Sirius' mother."

Harry smiled weakly. "Where's Dad?" he asked.

"He's waiting for us just up here," she said lightly, starting to walk towards the corner of the street. And indeed, James was perched on the sidewalk, looking anxious.

"What took you so long?" he asked when they reached him. "We're going to miss the train!"

Lily rolled her eyes at him. "Since when do you care about being punctual, James?"

James opened his mouth to retort, but his wife didn't give him the chance. She pulled on the sleeve of his robe, and beckoned Harry to walk in front of them. Harry obeyed and hurried to match his mother's pace.

It took them a good twenty minutes to reach the station by foot. Harry had to wonder why they couldn't just Apparate. Moody's paranoia, maybe. Once inside the station they lingered casually beside the barrier between platforms nine and ten until the coast was clear, then each of them leaned against it in turn and fell easily through onto platform nine and three quarters, where the Hogwarts Express stood belching sooty steam over a crowd of families saying goodbye to their children.

It wasn't long before the others crossed the barrier. Moody arrived pushing a cart loaded with trunks; Kris, Orion and Luke arrived with Sirius; Ron and Hermione with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny and the twins with Remus and Tonks. There was barely any time left for goodbyes, as the train was already issuing its warning whistles, but Mrs. Weasley still managed to hug all of them.

"Write…. Be good…. If you've forgotten anything we'll send it on…. Onto the train, now, hurry…."

"Don't get into any trouble!" Lily called over the noise the other families were making.

"Don't mind her, Harry!" called James, earning a smack from his wife.

Harry chuckled at his parents' antics, and climbed the steps to board the train. The rest of the group followed, and they clambered along the edge of the train to get to a window. They found a few just as the train started to move, and they all crammed around them to wave at their families as the train sped out of the platform. Soon, the Hogwarts Express turned and their families were left out of view.

"Well," said Fred suddenly, stepping away from the window. "We have places to be. Right, George?"

George imitated his twin and shrugged at them. "Very true, Fred. We'll see you guys at the feast," he stated as a goodbye, and led Fred away toward the crowd of students going back to their compartments.

Harry watched them leave with a grimace. "So I suppose we have to find somewhere to sit now," he told the group at large.

Orion raised his eyebrows at him. "_You_ have to find a seat," he told them, stepping away from them. "I gotta find Miles. Toodles!" he said, raising his arm in farewell and following the path the twins had taken.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a guilty look.

"Harry?" said Hermione tentatively. "Ron and I sort of have to go to the front. Prefect duties…. Sorry."

Harry could only stare at her for a moment. "Oh. Right. Fine."

"I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey," she said quickly. "Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time."

"Fine," said Harry again. "I might see you later then."

"Yeah, definitely," said Ron, casting a shifty look at Harry. "I mean, I don't want to stay there, I'd rather – we have to – I mean, I'm not enjoying it, I'm not Percy," he finished defiantly.

"I know," said Harry with a grin. But as his two best friends dragged their trunks away from him, he felt an odd sense of loss. He had never travelled to Hogwarts without Ron.

"Come on," Ginny told him. "We still need to find somewhere to sit."

"We could save them places," suggested Luke with a shrug.

Harry nodded, and the four started dragging their trunks down the corridor. They peered into every compartment window, but they were all full. After a few times of doing this, Harry noticed the occupants stared back at him and then started whispering amongst themselves. He thought it was a bit odd, but then he remembered the Prophet had been telling all sort of stories about how he was an attention seeker. Maybe even ill. His friends and family had done their best to ignore that all summer. He wondered if the students whispering about him believed the stories.

At the very end of the train, they found Neville struggling with his trunk in one hand, and Trevor in the other.

"Hey guys," he greeted, his face shiny and red from the effort of dealing with both possessions. "How was the summer?"

"All right," replied Luke with a shrug. "Do you need a hand with that?" he asked, pointing at Neville's trunk.

Neville stared at him. "Um, I- I'm fine, Luke. Thanks," he added with a smile. "Everywhere's full, though."

Ginny peeked into the very last compartment and laughed. "But this one's practically free, Neville. There's only Loony Lovegood here."

Harry lifted his eyebrows. "Who?"

Kristy giggled. "Luna Lovegood. She's a Ravenclaw in our year. She's all right, but she's a bit… out there," she explained, just as Ginny opened the compartment door and said "Hey, Luna! Can we sit here?"

"Didn't want to disturb," Neville mumbled, letting the others go in front of him.

Luke shrugged it off. "Nonsense."

When Harry walked in, he saw exactly why Neville had avoided this compartment. Luna Lovegood was… eccentric, to say the least. She had straggly, waist-length, dirty-blonde hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant silvery eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. She had a necklace made of butterbeer caps, and had stuck her wand behind her left ear. Not to mention she was reading The Quibbler upside down. She gazed at all of them in turn and nodded.

"Thanks," said Ginny, smiling at her.

Harry, Neville and Luke hoisted all the trunks and Hedwig's cage into the luggage rack, before they all sat down. Narya settled down on Kristy's lap, and purred.

"Good summer, Luna?" Kristy asked her.

"Yes," said Luna dreamily. "It was quite enjoyable, thank you. _You're_ Harry Potter," she stated suddenly, staring at Harry.

"I know I am," replied Harry.

Luna then stared at Luke and Neville. "Hello, Prince Luke," she greeted Kristy's cousin.

Luke shifted uncomfortably. "Please don't call me 'Prince', Luna," he asked her.

Luna smiled slightly. "As you wish, Luke. I don't know who you are, though," she added, looking straight into Neville.

"I'm nobody," Neville mumbled.

"No you're not," scolded Ginny. "Neville Longbottom – Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

"_Wit beyond measure, is man's greatest treasure_," said Luna in a singsong voice.

She raised her magazine high enough to hide her face and fell silent. Harry and Neville exchanged a look, not sure how to react. Luke sniggered and Kristy tried to suppress a giggle.

The train rattled onward, speeding them out into open country. It was an odd, unsettled kind of day; one moment the carriage was full of sunlight, the next they were passing under ominous clouds. Eventually, Ron and Hermione found them and squeezed into the almost full compartment. Apparently, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson had been made Prefects, too, and of course the trip could not be complete without Malfoy making an appearance. He was promptly shoved out, and after that the trip remained uneventful.

At last the train started to slow down and they heard the usual racket as everybody scrambled to get their luggage and pets. The rain pounded on the dark windows, so they couldn't get even a glimpse of the castle. Ron and Hermione were supposed to supervise departure, so they had to leave first. The others distributed their luggage and pets among them and got ready to leave. They shuffled out of the compartment and joined the crowd that was descending onto the platform.

Harry waited to hear Hagrid's voice call out to the first years, but it never came. Instead, a sharp female voice called "First years line up please! All first years with me!" that Harry recognized as Professor Grubbly-Plank's.

"Where's Hagrid?" he asked the girls.

"I don't know," said Ginny, but she didn't have a chance to say anything else because they were separated by the jostling crowd. Harry could just see the two redheads and Luke being carried away by the moving students.

He looked around for Ron and Hermione, but he couldn't distinguish anyone's face in the rain, so he settled for letting the crowd take him towards the horseless carriages outside Hogsmeade Station. Harry glanced quickly at them, and then turned away to keep looking for his friends, then did a double take.

The coaches were no longer horseless. There were creatures standing between the shafts; horse-like winged beasts that had a reptilian air about them. Their black coats clung to their skeletons, and their white, pupil-less eyes stared right ahead of them.

He was so distracted by them that he barely heard Ron talking to him, freshly arrived. Hermione was with him, complaining about Malfoy and asking for Crookshanks.

"Ginny has him," he replied absentmindedly. "What _are_ those things?" he asked them nodding towards the black creatures.

"What things?"

"Those horse things," he said, as he and Ron followed Hermione and Luna into a carriage.

"What horse things?"

"The horse things pulling the carriages!" said Harry impatiently; they were, after all, three feet from the nearest one. Ron gave Harry a perplexed look.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about – look!"

Harry grabbed Ron's arm and steered him so he was face-to-face with one of the horses. Ron stared and then looked back at Harry.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"At the – they're there! Between the shafts, and they have wings and…. Can't you see them?" Harry asked, starting to feel alarmed.

Ron looked alarmed too. "See _what_, Harry? Are you feeling all right, mate?"

"I… yeah…"

"Shall we go in, then?" Ron asked slowly.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah, go on…"

"It's all right," said a dreamy voice next to Harry as he and Ron settled into the carriage. "You're not going mad. I can see them, too."

Harry turned to Luna, hopeful. "Can you?"

Luna shrugged. "Of course. They've always pulled the carriages. Don't worry. You're just as sane as I am."

Harry shot a quick look at the eccentric girl and didn't feel altogether reassured when the carriage door slammed closed after him.

**Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack**

For the first time since starting his academic career in Ingoldstadt, Jack wished he could have skipped the ride to school aboard the White Dragon. As usual, his father had side-Apparated him at Port Aquila, and then Disapparated, leaving him to the curiosity of his peers. Everyone wanted to know why he had disappeared in the middle of the night at the end of the last year.

Just like that, everyone –except for his friends- got the same response: his godfather had fallen very ill and he'd had to leave without previous warning.

Most believed him, no problem. But even on the second day, some others that had already hounded him on the ship, like Manfred Bloor and Shancus Von, wanted further detail. Shancus eventually backed off, but the Bloor patriarch –well connected as he was- had told his sons the truth, and Manfred loved pressing Jack for confirmation. As usual, he was just being a pain in the a-

"What's with the look, mate?" Kenichi asked suddenly.

Jack realized he'd been glaring at his timetable and relaxed his expression. He noticed the rest of his friends were looking at him quizzically.

Ralph smirked slightly. "Hades, Riddle, choosing new classes isn't that hard."

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. "Not what I was glaring at, but it _is_ hard."

"I agree," piped in Tancred, taking a bite out of his breakfast. "How am I supposed to know what I want? What if I change my mind next year?"

Kenichi shrugged. "I know something I won't change my mind about," he commented simply, spooning his breakfast.

Jack and the others stared expectantly at him, but Kenichi didn't elaborate.

"Hello?" prompted Tancred. "What is that wonderful thing you won't change your mind about?"

Kenichi looked up to meet his friend's questioning glances. "Technomancy," he replied. "I thought it would be obvious."

Jack shook his head at him. "Not a chance. I didn't know you were into that stuff," he said questioningly.

"It's all I hear about back home," answered Kenichi with a shrug. "It's quite interesting, manipulating Muggle technology and creating new stuff."

"Don't you need to know about Muggle stuff for that?" asked Amy, speaking for the first time. "I'm sure you know a thing or two, but if you want to go as far as _creating_-"

"That's why I'm taking Muggle Studies," replied Kenichi, speaking very fast, knowing Jack would disapprove. "Which means I have to drop Herbology," he added, lowering his eyes to his timetable to avoid his friends' gazes. "Both classes are at the same time."

Ralph dropped his fork. "You're dropping Herbology?" he asked, scandalized.

The other three boys and Amy looked at him.

"What's so wrong about that?" asked Tancred, completely bewildered. "I was considering it as a possibility myself."

Jack nodded cautiously, ignoring Kenichi's preferences for the time being. "Yeah, Ralph, I don't think I'll be taking Herbology either."

Ralph seemed to be at a loss for words. He opened and closed his mouth but couldn't find his voice.

Amy looked concerned. "I'll be taking Herbology…"

"Thank you, babe!" Ralph cried out finally. "I'm glad my girlfriend has some sense, as opposed to my friends," he scoffed.

Jack frowned and shook his head. "I don't get it. Why would I want to continue tending to plants? We can't take more than eight classes, and there're some new ones I want to try out. I can't fit Herbology anywhere… it's not that catastrophic, Ralph."

"Why do you want Herbology?" Kenichi asked Ralph, before he could retort.

Ralph glanced at all of them before shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, if you must know, I've been considering a career in Potions. I won't get anywhere without a knowledge of plants."

"I didn't know that," said Amy suddenly. "I'm your girlfriend and I don't know your career choice?"

Ralph shrugged. "Nobody knows. This is the first time I mention anything. I've been thinking about it ever since Manfred had to choose his classes."

Jack scowled at the mention of Manfred. "I wish that git would get off my back," he muttered to himself. "What is he taking?" he asked Ralph.

Ralph picked up his fork and speared some sausages absentmindedly. "Duelling, of course… Arithmancy, and History. I never got the academic side of him, honestly."

Kenichi picked up his timetable and stared at it. "I might take Arithmancy, too. Sounds useful if I have to do calculations."

Tancred shook his head at the redhead. "You're crossing over to the Muggle side, my orange friend."

Kenichi shot a quick glance at Jack, who was looking a little sour, and then back down at his schedule. "And I don't know what else to do… this is confusing…"

Amy, who was sitting between Kenichi and Ralph, scooted closer to the Japanese boy, and took his schedule. "Look, there's four required courses we have to take: Transfiguration, Potions, Dark Arts, and DADA. And Element Wielding, that doesn't count as an academic course. Which they've moved to Saturday mornings, I might add. Thank Merlin… Then from our old classes, there's History, Herbology, and Charms that we can keep, drop or switch for its alternative: History for Technomancy, Herbology for Muggle Studies, and Charms for Divination."

Kenichi grimaced. "Yes, I got that… so far I'm switching History for Technomancy, and Herbology for Muggle Studies. But can I drop Charms just like that?"

Amy took a deep breath. "No, no, no, you're confused. See, you've only chosen six classes. You need to choose two more."

Jack picked up his own timetable and read through his classes. He tuned out Amy's explanation while he thought about what he wanted to do. Thinking about a career seemed ridiculous. He knew his future lay outside the usual workplace, which posed the question: what would come more in handy?

He marked down Duelling as a must. He wanted to live, thank you. Divination was completely out, as was Muggle Studies. He had no intention of getting to know the stuff Muggles came up with to compensate for their lack of magic. Care of Magical Creatures seemed irrelevant, but discarding the rest was trickier. Should he drop History? Charms? Should he pick Alchemy, Runes or Arithmancy? He sighed in frustration.

Tancred chuckled and looked at him knowingly. "Now you know what I meant," the blond said smirking.

Jack grimaced. "There're so many options," he groaned. "It's hard to pick."

The werewolf pursed his lips and tapped the table with his fingers. "Hmm. Riddle, do you remember first year?"

Jack scoffed. "Of course."

Tancred nodded slowly, lost in thought –something that didn't happen too often, as a matter of fact. "I was thinking… did you ever figure out what that rock said?"

Jack was lost. "What rock?"

"The one that only shows up when you stand at a certain point, and shocks you into comas if you touch it?" Tancred asked impatiently, quickly describing the artefact that had rendered him unconscious years before.

Now Jack felt stupid. "Oh. _That_ rock. You could have been more specific, you know!" he defended himself.

"T'cha!" scoffed Tancred. "The point is you remember it. Did you ever figure out what it said?"

Jack glanced at Ralph and Kenichi, but they were absorbed in picking their classes. They didn't seem to hear his conversation with Tancred.

"No," he replied finally. "There wasn't a single book in the library with that rock's specific language on it. How is this relevant right now?"

Tancred smirked at Jack's confusion and slight annoyance, and put his timetable in front of him. "This," he said, pointing at a word.

Jack squinted at it. "Runes? You want to take Runes?"

The Canadian boy smiled triumphantly. "Finally catching up, are you? I was wondering if you'd take the class with me, since you seemed so interested in finding out what that rock said all those years ago. I certainly still am."

Jack frowned but thought about the possibility. He had no idea Tancred still thought about the meaning of that slab of rock. "If I take Runes," he said slowly, "that means Arithmancy is out, 'cause they're at the same time."

Tancred laughed. "Come on, are you telling me you prefer calculating life numbers to learning how to read the language that drove you nuts for months?"

He didn't want to admit it, but Tancred had a point. And the choice seemed obvious when the werewolf put it like that. He wasn't sure if he still had the piece of parchment where he had copied the text on the slab of rock; he would have to look for it. "Fine, you win," he groaned. "I'll take Runes."

"Yesss," celebrated Tancred, punching the air. Jack rolled his eyes, but he was amused by the display. "And look! The first class is today, after Transfiguration," he added, pointing at his timetable again.

"What's that about Runes?" called Amy from across the table.

Tancred looked up. "Riddle and I are taking it. Want to join us?"

Amy looked pleasantly surprised. "I thought I'd be the only one of us taking it. Yes, let's take Runes."

Ralph scoffed at them. "Weirdos. Pick something useful, like Duelling."

"I'm obviously taking Duelling, Bloor," retorted Jack, rolling his eyes. "I suppose you're taking it, too?"

Ralph shrugged nonchalantly. "Can't let Manny outdo me, can I?"

Amy's expression changed to one of annoyance. "Are you saying my classes are useless because I didn't pick the same as you?"

Ralph paled. "Of course not, babe! All of them are useful, I just meant-"

"It's always the same with you, Ralph," she said with a scowl.

"Babe, listen-"

"Don't _'babe' _me, Bloor!"

"Whoa!" cried Kenichi, scooting away from Amy. "First day back and already fighting?"

Amy smirked at him. "We have an intense relationship, Kenichi, don't be alarmed. Right, sweetheart?"

Ralph smiled nervously. "Yes, babe."

Jack raised an eyebrow. The two reminded him slightly of his parents, except… nah, not at all. His father was never as submissive as Ralph –he'd rather die than submit, which was saying something. And his mother hadn't been prone to blowing up at his father's biting or careless comments, either. He couldn't vouch for their teenage years, but still…

"Anything else, Riddler?" Tancred asked him.

Jack blinked a couple of times, trying to process the nickname. "_Riddler_?"

"Just go with it," replied Tancred rapidly.

Jack huffed, but looked down at his timetable again. "I like how Alchemy looks. I'm taking that one… but I don't want to drop History, so that means I have to drop Charms," he mused. Tancred looked at him expectantly. "Meh, I wasn't learning much in Charms anyway. So I'll take Alchemy, Runes, and Duelling, and drop Charms and Herbology. Not switching History. So that's that," he announced.

As soon as the last word left his mouth, some courses disappeared from his timetable, and the lines shifted. When the movement stopped, his new timetable shone at him from the piece of parchment. He read it curiously.

"Hey…" he said slowly. "I start at ten tomorrow, and I have… a three hour-and-a-half break between History and Duelling? Sweet."

"I want that break!" cried Ralph suddenly.

Amy peeked at her boyfriend's timetable. "You can't have it if you keep Charms."

"Damn!"

Jack chuckled and put his timetable down to finally have some breakfast. He had thirty minutes before Transfiguration started, and he didn't want to feel hungry later. He half listened to his friends' debate on what classes they should pick, but mostly he wondered if he'd made the right choices. In the end, the other four figured out what they wanted out of the school year, and one by one their shiny new timetables beamed up at them. Despite their new classes, they found out they shared most of them anyway.

It was in the middle of comparing schedules that the Headmistress, Nyah Rego, walked by their table to greet them, and remind them that they had to leave if they didn't want to be late for their first class.

So they packed up their things –Jack waved at Ivy when he spotted her a few tables down- and the group left the Dining Hall for the first Transfiguration class of the year. It didn't matter that it was eight thirty in the morning, that he hadn't had enough sleep, or that Manfred managed to sneak one last glare at him before he crossed the door…. He was finally home.


	5. It's No Surprise

**A/N: **One word: College. I actually wrote down this entire chapter in snippets, hidden among my school notes. I could only transcribe them last night.

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**Chapter 4 – _It's No Surprise_**

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Harry was the first to awake in his dormitory on Saturday morning. He lay for a moment watching dust swirl in the pale morning light while he savoured the arrival of the weekend. The first week of term seemed to have dragged on forever. Every professor had drilled them with information about O.W.L.s, and left them a huge mountain of homework to match. He had even gotten into detention the first day back for arguing with Umbridge about Cedric Diggory's death, and now he had the words '_I must not tell lies' _etched on the back of his right hand.

He frowned slightly and rubbed the white lines absentmindedly. Only Ron knew about them, and just because he had caught Harry one night after detention. Harry had no intention of letting anyone know about Umbridge's idea of punishment. He considered it his personal battle with her. Dumbledore was probably too busy to hear about it anyway, he thought scathingly. The old headmaster hadn't spoken to him since last June, at the end of fourth year.

All in all, it hadn't been the best start of term ever. Whispers and rumours still followed him everywhere he went, and some people even avoided him. He scowled slightly before remembering his last detention with Umbridge. His scar had hurt him horribly when she had touched his hand, which just added to his frustration. Hermione didn't think the twisted woman could be directly connected to Voldemort, but the episode still bothered Harry. He pushed the curtains open and sat up in his bed. Now he remembered he was meant to write a letter to his parents asking for their thoughts on the matter.

He stood up and got dressed quickly. It was still early morning, so it was unlikely that the other boys would wake up soon. He opened his schoolbag carefully, pulled out parchment, ink and quill, and headed out of the dormitory for the common room.

It took him well over half an hour to write a short letter in code to his family. He had learned to tell things as subtly as possible in case his letters were intercepted. He hoped it was obvious enough for them, while still seeming harmless enough to an outsider. He sealed the parchment carefully and exited the common room. The day was bright and cloudless outside; perfect for Quidditch practice later that afternoon.

The sun was already high when he finally reached the Owlery, so the sunlight entering through the glassless windows hurt his eyes. That plus the amount of owls sitting on the rafters made it a little difficult for him to find Hedwig. He called her down when he finally spotted her on one of the highest rafters, and she swooped down and landed on his shoulder.

"Hey, girl," he greeted her. "Take this to mum and dad, will you?" he asked her, giving her the letter to clasp in he beak. She blinked her large amber eyes at him to let him know she understood, and then she took off. Harry approached the window and watched her fly away until she was no more than a speck against the sky, then he switched his gaze to the forbidden forest and watched the canopies sway with the breeze. He savoured the wind on his face, thinking about Quidditch later that day… and then he saw it. A great reptilian horse, just like the ones pulling the carriages, rose up above the trees like a grotesque, giant bird. It soared in a great circle and then plunged into the trees again. The whole thing had happened so fast Harry could hardly believe it happened at all, except his heart was hammering madly against his chest.

He backed away from the window and stumbled out of the Owlery. He had completely forgotten about those creatures, and he hadn't even thought about asking his mother about them. She wouldn't think him crazy.

He made his way to the Great Hall to have some breakfast, and maybe take his mind off those things. He hoped someone else he was friendly with was awake at this hour. He got his wish.

"Morning, Harry," greeted Kristy cheerfully, when he approached the Gryffindor table.

"Morning," he told her and Luke, noticing both were looking fresh. "Definitely not your O.W.L. year," he commented, joining them.

Luke chuckled. "That bad, is it, Harry?"

Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "I haven't slept properly all week," he replied. "Plus the detention with Umbridge… I'm just glad it's the weekend," he said at last, reaching out for food.

"How was that detention?" Kristy asked him. "I heard from Hermione that she made you do lines, but I haven't seen her since she told me. Nor you or Ron, for that matter," she added frowning.

Harry hesitated a little before serving himself some bacon, but he recovered before the other two noticed. "It was tedious, that's all. A little dull, if you ask me," he said finally.

"Oh," said Kristy simply. "Well, that's not too bad then."

Harry shrugged, and went back to his food, not wanting to continue that particular line of conversation. They entered a slightly awkward silence instead, in which they all bit into their respective breakfasts, and neither knew what else to say. Harry hadn't realized how long it had been since he and Kristy had had an actual conversation. He had spent so much more time with Ron and Hermione this summer, while Kristy had been with Ginny and Orion. He didn't even know if she was doing ok, or who she was hanging out with now. She hadn't mentioned Devanee in a while, so maybe they were growing apart too? Or were they?

"So, Kristy," he said suddenly, feeling a need to reconnect with her. "How was your first week?"

The redhead shrugged. "Not much happened, really. I was looking forward to DADA, but with that Umbridge woman I might have as well not taken the course."

Harry nodded. "Oh, I see. Yeah, I think so too. She's horrible in every sense. Evil, even," he muttered, remembering the flash of pain on his forehead when she touched him.

Kristy scowled. "And that little cough of hers!" she went on, "It's so annoying! You should hear Ginny imitate her, though. It's so funny," she added with a slight grin.

Harry smiled too, and both laughed a little before falling silent again. Luke shifted in his seat.

There was that awkwardness again. Harry stared at her, and then looked away, not really knowing what else to say. Kristy turned her goblet in her hands.

"I heard you have Quidditch try-outs today," she commented lightly. "Any hopefuls?"

Harry thought of the night he had run into Ron and his broom. "Yes, a few. Aren't you trying out?"

Kristy sniggered. "I don't really fancy the Keeper position. Besides, I prefer watching Quidditch rather than playing it, Harry, you know that."

"Right," he replied, feeling a bit silly. "Yes, you didn't really join in this summer."

Kristy shrugged again. "It's ok."

Harry noticed Luke was trying to stay out of their conversation. No doubt he felt the awkwardness, too. Instead, Luke kept glancing at the doors, only half listening.

Kristy noticed his behaviour too, and rolled her eyes. "I told you Annelie was asleep when I left my dorm," she told him. "It'll be a while before she walks through those doors."

Harry, who had been trying to distract himself with his food, looked up at the mention of Kristy's dorm mate. "Annelie?"

Kristy turned her attention to him. "Girl in our year," she explained. "Luke would have asked her to the Yule Ball last year, and he's been sort of in love with her ever since," she added, obviously trying to get on her cousin's nerves.

It worked, too.

"I'm not in love!" protested Luke, tearing his eyes from the large double doors. "I just… I lent her my favourite quill, and she hasn't given it back yet."

Kristy laughed at him. "Sure, Luke. You don't have a favourite quill. They're all the same!"

Luke scoffed. "They're not all the same. The ink… er… flows better from the one Annelie borrowed."

Kristy snorted. "Whatever you say, elf-boy," she mollified him. Then to Harry, "See what I've had to deal with while you've been busy?"

Harry chuckled. "You should listen to Ron and Hermione. They just keep going at it everyday."

Kristy and Harry smiled at their friends' antics, and Luke smirked at them.

"If you think I'm bad, Harry, you should see Kris and Zane," he said evilly. "They're partnering up for everything lately."

"Luke!" she cried, alarmed. "Zane and I… we get along, that's all. And we don't partner in every class!"

Luke smirked. "Only because you and Ginny have been partnering up in Potions since first year," he teased her. "Otherwise…"

"Seriously, Luke," she said, rolling her eyes and fiercely stabbing her breakfast. Harry raised his eyebrows at the sudden hostility.

"Um… who's Zane?" he asked tentatively.

Kristy scowled at him. "A Gryffindor fourth year, if you must know," she replied a bit crossly.

Harry blinked, surprised. "Sorry I asked," he mumbled, pushing some bacon across his plate.

Kristy sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry," she apologized. "Luke just gets on my nerves."

"Hey!" cried Luke.

Harry ignored him. "It's fine… it's not really any of my business anyway," he replied with a slight smile.

Kristy smiled back and returned to her breakfast. Luke scoffed at her, but went back to finishing his breakfast as well. Harry lowered his gaze to his plate. Since when wasn't it his business what went on in Kristy's life? They used to be so close… the Marauders' children, always together, always watching out for each other. Now he was swamped in schoolwork and friends, and it seemed she had a little crush on this Zane guy. He frowned. He'd have to pay more attention to the fourth years if he wanted to figure out which one was Zane.

"Hey, Kris! Morning, Luke," said a boy passing by their seats. Kristy looked up at him and smiled tiredly.

"Hey yourself, Zane," she replied. Harry looked up. So much for paying attention to the fourth years. Zane was a lanky kid with spiky black hair and blue-grey eyes. He wasn't particularly good looking, in his humble opinion… just… _average_.

Zane stopped a little past them. A brown haired boy –that Harry only knew as Derek- was with him. "So, are we still getting together this afternoon for our Transfiguration research?" he asked Kristy, sounding a bit too hopeful to Harry.

"Sure," replied Kristy, smiling despite herself as she pushed a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "We're meeting in the library at five, right?"

The boy offered her a noncommittal shrug. "Yep. See you then," he said, waving farewell. Luke rolled his eyes.

"Sickening," he sung lightly.

"Back off, Luke," Kristy snapped, getting a bit of a murderous glint in her eyes.

Harry raised his eyebrows. He'd hardly ever seen Kristy so defensive of anything. She was the kind of girl that took things in stride and shrugged off teasing. Where had he been when she started to change? What on earth had happened to her that he had missed?

* * *

Jack had been looking forward to Duelling class more than to any other. After his run-in with the Shades, and the disastrous fight with Pettigrew, he was anxious to learn how to fight properly. He had completely lost his head back then, consumed by an irrational want to se Wormtail dead. He couldn't let that happen ever again.

However, he had been disappointed. Of course the first duelling course would deal with positions, etiquette, and first level curses. He hated to think that he might be losing precious time.

His classmates were taking the class eagerly, all excited to finally be using the spells they had learned over the years for something other than everyday life.

"We're supposed to hold our wands up before we bow, right?" asked Isabel.

Jack rolled his eyes and leaned moodily against the hallway wall. Their Duelling Master happened to be Master Anil, Ralph's Airwielding professor. Today he was late. Jack wished he could at least step into the arena to blow off some steam, but the door was locked and could only be opened by faculty members.

Ralph was explaining the etiquette of a duel to Isabel. "Yes, you hold it up –like this- and then you slash down –yes, like that- we bow, turn our backs on each other and walk ten paces before we turn around again, and then we attack."

"But what if one of us hasn't turned around yet?"

"We're supposed to wait until we've seen each other's faces. Can't attack someone's back now, can we?" piped in Zoè.

Jack only half-listened. He knew the etiquette, but in his opinion it was mainly useless. Of course Ralph knew it, too. He doubted Reuben Bloor would teach Ralph anything these days, but he did teach Manfred everything he knew, and the Bloor brothers were still close enough to share knowledge. Ralph probably owed all his duelling-related knowledge to his older brother.

At long last he heard footsteps walking down the hall. He separated himself from the wall and glanced behind him.

"Goodness, guys! I would have expected you to try and bust that lock!" Master Anil was saying as he came closer. He jabbed his wand at the door and it burst open.

The small group filed in and waited for their teacher to reach his usual spot in front of them. Once he did, Master Anil's brown eyes cast a glance around the small, rectangular arena. Light filtered in through glass windows on one of the walls; long weapons that looked like they hadn't been taken off their perches for years covered the rest of the walls.

"Alright everyone. Choose a partner. We'll start with some spells today. They're easy enough that you can pick them up quickly. Just a warm-up."

Jack and Ralph exchanged a look and quickly stepped closer to each other. Their classmates knew the two wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, Jack felt more comfortable kicking Ralph's ass than anyone else's.

"Does everyone have a partner? Yes?" said their teacher, once he noticed the six students had broken into three pairs. "Last class we talked about etiquette and reviewed the Disarming Spell. Today, I will teach you the Shield Charm. It is a moderate level spell, so don't be disappointed if can't get it right at first. The spell is: _Protego._"

"_Protego_!" Jack's classmates called back.

Jack barely stopped himself from groaning. Yet another spell he already knew. Admittedly, his shield wasn't all that impressive, but he considered it decent. It had held against Manfred's curses for years, hadn't it?

'_But then again,_' he thought as Master Anil explained the spell, it didn't really hold against stronger curses. It was true it could absorb part of a curse, but if they were too strong his shield would always fail.

"Good!" Master Anil was saying. "Now, _Protego_ will provide the caster with a temporary shield that will protect them from most curses. This, of course, once your shield is well developed. At first you might get a mist capable of slowing down minor spells. As it develops, the mist will crystallize and create a transparent barrier around you. You also have to remember that Shield Charms have a limited resistance. They will not protect you from very powerful curses, but you will be taught how to deal with those curses next year…"

Jack sighed and tuned out the Master. He knew all this already! He knew what the Shield Charm should look like, he knew it couldn't protect him from everything, and what he wanted to learn was how to cast his father's particular shield. Not that he would learn how to conjure the highly resistant silver shield at school, though, as it was his father's own creation.

"Now! For the offensive… we will be using Expelliarmus to test your shields. We don't want to use more aggressive curses in case the shields don't hold up –which they probably won't…" Master Anil trailed off, a slight grimace on his otherwise cheerful face. Jack had to raise an eyebrow at the sudden mood change. Airwielders were weird like that. Then, as fast as the grimace came, it left, replaced by a cheeky smile. "So! Talk to your partner and decide who goes first."

Jack turned to look at Ralph. "Who attacks first?" he asked.

Ralph grimaced. "I don't want to be attacked first. You do the Shield thing."

Jack lifted an eyebrow for the second time in less than a minute. "You do realize that my shield will throw you back anyway?"

"Excuse me!" Ralph cried, irritated. "I have a mean Expelliarmus!"

Jack snorted, highly amused. "If you say so."

Ralph looked like he wanted nothing better than to hurt him, which Jack didn't really mind.

Master Anil asked them for silence and to take their places. The six shuffled to their spots and faced their respective opponents. "On three! One… two… three!"

"_Expelliarmus_!" cried Ralph, slashing his wand in Jack's direction.

At the same time, Jack had lifted his wand and called, "_Protego!_"

Ralph's spell made contact with Jack's shimmering shield, and bounced right off. The backlash made Ralph lose his footing and tumble to the floor. Jack smirked, very pleased with himself at the result.

He was just beginning to savour his victory, when Master Anil intervened.

"Halt!" he barked, stepping between the duellists. Jack tore his eyes from the scowling Ralph and glanced at the rest of the people in the room. Aaron Summers was still holding his wand up and staring at Jack with his mouth hanging slightly open. Jack offered him a small smirk and a shrug.

Master Anil had approached Ralph and was checking him for injury while Ralph's cheeks flushed, and he mumbled that he wasn't hurt. Ah, the humiliation. Jack loved every moment of it.

His shield had long faded, but when Master Anil turned to look at him, it might have as well been a shining golden wall around him.

"That was…" Anil whispered, "…unexpected. Not unheard of, but certainly…"

Jack shifted his feet. Anil seemed to be talking to himself, but now he felt the eyes of his classmates on him and he started to feel uncomfortable. He hated drawing so much attention to himself. He felt exposed.

"Where did you learn the Shield Charm?" Anil finally asked him.

"Er… home," he replied softly. Unlike most of the spells he knew, this one had been taught to him by his mother, rather than by his father. Tom cared much more for attack, and figured offense would be the best defence. Sam preferred her son being well defended, but as a child, Jack had never been able to conjure more than some vapour that wouldn't have even stopped a fly, but the years of practice seemed to have paid off.

Master Anil was nodding with a thoughtful look on his face. "Interesting…. Quite interesting. Well let's get back into pairs and switch roles, please," he told the room at large, switching back to teacher-mode but keeping his eyes on Jack.

There were feeble protests from Aaron and Zoè, who wanted to have another go at the Shield Charm, but they complied anyway. Ralph was still rubbing his lower back, but he was on his feet again and the glare on his face promised revenge. He got into a defensive position and waited. Jack switched to offensive. Expelliarmus? Pah!

"On three. One… two… three!"

"_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Protego!_"

This time, Jack's spell collided with Ralph's shield before it was fully formed, and dissipated it on impact. Ralph stumbled back a few paces, and struggled a bit to keep his wand from leaving his hand. In the end, it stopped twitching and Ralph was able to stand properly again. His classmates offered him an appreciative chuckle, but Jack wasn't all that satisfied. He had been hoping to see his cousin on his back again, but it seemed Ralph wasn't so bad after all.

"Very good," said Master Anil with an appreciative nod. "Both of you. Mr. Bloor, you are as good as in Airwielding practice."

Ralph shrugged, his ego still bruised, and Jack shifted uncomfortably again. Of course they were good! This was the family trade!

The class continued in the same fashion for the next hour and a half, switching roles and throwing spells at each other. Eventually, they had moved away from the Disarming Spell and moved into slightly more powerful spells. As the level went up, less shields held, and Ralph found himself on his back several more times. Jack's shield had held against anything the other students threw at it, and by the end of class Master Anil was fascinated with him.

"Excellent work, everyone!" he said at the end, beckoning them all closer to him. "Keep on working on those Shield Charms. They will be vital in a duel, so put them up against any curse you can think of to make them stronger. As a matter of fact, seek out Mr. Riddle if you feel daring. I'm sure he won't mind lending a hand."

Jack's classmates shot him wary glances, and laughed nervously. Ralph scoffed and looked away. Jack felt uncomfortable again.

Master Anil cleared his throat. "That will be all for today. I will be seeing you again on Thursday. Have a good night!"

The students went to pick up their bags, and most had exited the arena when Master Anil seemed to make up his mind about something and called Jack back.

"Mr. Riddle, a quick word please."

Ralph stopped at the door, but Jack beckoned him to keep going without him. Ralph rolled his eyes moodily and left. Jack and the Airwielding Master were left on their own.

"Yes, Master Anil?" he asked politely, letting his schoolbag rest on his shoulder.

He didn't reply right away, choosing to take a long thoughtful look at him instead. Jack tried not to fidget.

"Riddle, it's easy to tell you don't belong at this level," Anil said at last. "You obviously have experience in this area."

Jack offered a non-committal shrug. "I've been around," he said evenly. _'Cursing Manfred, training with Diego, and killing traitors,'_ added a darker voice in the back of his head. Jack ignored it and tried to appear innocent.

Master Anil offered him a small smile. "You see, you are so evidently above the rest that I was thinking… would you be willing to take a test with Mistress Akane, and see if you're fit for the next level?"

Jack's stomach did a somersault. Skip the basics and jump straight into expanding his arsenal?

"Yes!" he said almost too eagerly. "I mean… sure. I can give it a try," he added more soberly, trying to cover up his excitement.

Anil smiled knowingly but didn't comment on his slip. "Excellent. How about… next Thursday after class? I'll invite Mistress Akane to watch and then she can test you. I understand she's your Firewielding teacher?"

Jack nodded. "That's right."

Anil nodded back. "So she knows you, then. If she likes what she sees, she might clear you to learn with the Sixth Years."

Jack's eyes glinted. "Will do, Master. I'll be ready for Thursday."

Master Anil chuckled and showed him the way to the door. "As you probably know, Mistress Akane is an expert on offense, so I would recommend looking for more defensive spells. If I were you, I would expect to be hit by several curses."

* * *

The castle was mainly silent by the time Jack reached the Fifth Years' common room. He couldn't find his friends there, so he went straight to the Main Common Room. It proved to be the right thing to do, because there they were, hanging out with the fourth year girls for a change.

"Oi!" called Ralph when he spotted him. "What did Anil want?"

Jack walked over to the group and collapsed on the empty armchair next to Ivy's. "He wants Akane to test me," he replied. "If I pass, I'll be taking Duelling classes with the sixth years."

"No way!" cried Tancred.

"That's awesome," agreed Kenichi.

"You must be really, really good if you're skipping a year," added Ivy admiringly.

Jack offered her a dazzling smile for her compliment, and completely forgot he was surrounded by his friends. He lay back on his armchair and looked at her. "Yeah, I… I guess I am," he declared proudly.

Ralph burst out laughing. "Tune it down, Cassanova."

Ivy blushed and Jack scowled at him. "Do you mind?" he snapped.

Ralph rolled his eyes. "Whatever. When's your test?"

"Thursday," replied Jack, his tone still slightly aggressive.

"So does this mean my Lord won't be kicking my ass anymore?" asked Ralph sarcastically.

Jack's expression changed from annoyed to something slightly evil. His smirk and the spark in his eyes resembled those of a hunter stalking its prey. "Well," he said at last, "not in class at least. I still have to practice outside the classroom, you know? How else am I supposed to get better?"

Ralph narrowed his eyes at him. "Suck a lemon, Riddle."

"You'll be the best in the class now, though," Tancred reminded Ralph. Ollie, Tancred's younger sister, nodded in agreement.

"Jack will have trouble staying on top of the more experienced Sixth Years," she piped in, shooting Jack a fleeting wink.

Jack responded with a slight glare. "Thanks, Olivia."

Ralph brightened up and returned Jack's evil look. "Shancus Von is in Duelling class. So are Manfred and his friend, Asa Pike. Asa came over during the summer and I saw them practice. They're really, really good fighters. Manny improved a lot since the last time you got into a fight. And I bet Shancus is just as good."

Jack scowled. "I practiced at home too, and I got better."

Ollie pretended not to hear him. "I think Yin is in Duelling class, too," she added helpfully. "She's supposed to be a mean Airwielder."

"I'm a good Firewielder, you know?" he argued. "I could beat her."

"Not to mention they have a whole year of experience you don't have yet," continued Ralph, happily making Jack pay for humiliating him in class. "Merlin, Riddle, are you sure you can do this?"

Jack finally snapped. "I'll do it! I'll be top of the class, you'll see. I'll show you."

Ralph raised his arms as a sign of surrender. "Alright! Fine! I'd love to see that," he said, still not convinced that Jack could beat all of the Sixth Years. "Just a word of advice. If it were me, I wouldn't underestimate them."

Jack scoffed but refrained from replying. Yin? Shancus? Asa? Manfred? Seriously? They were nothing he couldn't beat. He's survived Shades, he was the son of the Dark Lord, he'd escaped a labour camp, and even killed a man. What could be harder than that? He'd show Ralph how good he truly was. He'd show them all.


	6. Gryffindor Issues

**A/N: **Introducing the new update. About time too. I don't believe this. Love you all, whether you review or not!

* * *

**Chapter 5 – _Gryffindor Issues_**

* * *

The dungeon was just as damp and dreary as always. Not that she had been expecting otherwise, but today it happened to darken her mood. Snape had just left the instructions for the Deflating Draught on the board and was sitting on his desk, looking as menacing and as vampire-like as ever. Ginny had left to get the ingredients from the cupboard while she prepared the cauldron and pulled out all the little silver instruments they would need to cut, smash, squeeze, and whatever else was necessary to do to the ingredients to get the potion done.

She glanced at her left and caught Luke talking to Annelie. That hypocrite… teasing her about Zane while being clearly interested in her roommate. Ugh. Today wasn't a good day.

"Someone's angry," commented Ginny lightly once she returned. Her arms were full of roots and jars, and Kristy helped her put them on the table.

"Not angry," Kristy whispered back, shooting a glance at Snape to make sure he was distracted. Detention was the last thing she needed, and Snape did always have it against her and Orion because of their father.

Ginny snorted softly. "You're seething. What's bothering you?"

Kristy organized the silver instruments in front of them and pulled out her brass scales. "You mean aside from the Prophet?"

Ginny shot her a look and nodded.

That morning, the Daily Prophet's headline had made the whole school buzz with nervous chatter. The day before, Educational Decree #23 had been passed, appointing Umbridge as Hogwarts' "High Inquisitor", giving her the power to supervise their classes and deem their professors fit for teaching. While unsettling in itself, today the Prophet had also made a jab at Dumbledore. It seemed Dumbledore had finally gone to Fudge with news of Voldemort's return, and Fudge had ridiculed him claiming the man was clearly senile, for he was now making up stories about long dead Dark Wizards. He had laughed it off, and the Dark Lord had not been mentioned again in the entire newspaper.

However, the students that read the newspaper had passed around the news, and everyone was having hushed conversations about both events. It was testimony of how much Snape was feared that most students were working quietly in his class. Except for Delilah Norwood and Jocelyn Ivers from Slytherin, of course. Those two could never stop gossiping, could they?

"Kris!" Ginny snapped softly. "Will you stop glaring at Norwood and Ivers and answer me?"

Kristy huffed. "Pass the bubotuber pus," she said instead.

Ginny growled at her but did as she was told. While Kristy measured the right amount of yellow liquid with her scales, Ginny stocked the fire and pulled the moke ribs closer to her.

As the two girls worked in silence, Kristy felt slightly guilty about not telling Ginny what was the matter with her. It wasn't that she was mad at Luke, because she was used to him; what really bothered her was Zane, who was currently attempting to work under Snape's menacing presence.

Kristy knew Potions wasn't Zane's strongest subject, and that most of the time he relied on his best friend, Derek Keegan, to pull through. Although, while partnering with him she'd discovered he was very good at Charms and great in Transfiguration, which was more than she could say for herself… she was better at Potions and DADA, true, but only decent in Transfiguration.

"Is that a magazine I see, Mr. Hunt?"

Snape's accusation drew the class' attention, so that everyone was suddenly looking at the dark haired, Gryffindor boy. The Slytherins sniggered. Zane had gone cold.

"Well, Mr. Hunt?"

Zane and Derek exchanged a quick look. Alphaeus Outerridge had such a look of glee on his face that Kristy wanted to punch him.

"It's just the Daily Prophet, professor," replied Zane meekly.

"Is it?" said Snape softly. In the blink of an eye, he snatched the offending piece of paper and held it close to his face. It was, in fact, the Prophet.

"Five points from Gyffindor," he snapped, glaring slightly at Zane. "Next time, do not bring reading material into the classroom if it is not pertinent to my class."

That said, Snape turned away from him and targeted the next couple of Gryffindors he could take points from: Colin Creevey and Devanee. She looked less than happy to be partnered up with him, but Luke had stolen Annelie from her today.

Kristy shook her head at Snape's back and caught Zane's eye. He smiled at her in a painful kind of way, and shrugged. Kristy smiled back. Zane turned around to continue his work, but Ginny had already noticed the interaction.

"That's what's bothering you, isn't it?" Ginny whispered at her, taking advantage of Snape's distraction.

Kristy raised an eyebrow, and measured the amount of water she had to use next. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Ginny cast her a disbelieving look, while Kristy carefully poured the water into the cauldron. The potion turned a nice crystal turquoise colour, and their lionfish spine slowly sank to the middle of the cauldron. Perfect.

Kristy caught the look on her friend's face and crossed her arms over her chest. "It's nothing, Ginny."

"Pish posh," replied Ginny. "Look. We have five minutes until the spine dissolves and we have to add the tentacles. Just tell me what's bothering you, Kris. Is it Luke? Because I'll hurt him if it is."

Kristy smiled despite herself. "Nah, it's not him. He's always been annoying. It's just that this time he sort of… made me wonder."

Ginny smirked slightly. "Aha?"

Kristy weighted her options. She wasn't even sure if she liked Zane, so she couldn't confess to it. Not really.

"All right," she finally admitted. "So I might notice him more than I used to…"

Ginny's lips curled into a cheeky smile. "_Aha?_"

Kristy spluttered. "But only because Luke started suggesting it! If he hadn't implied anything, I wouldn't be in this mess."

"Why hadn't you said anything?" asked Ginny.

Kristy rolled her eyes and shrugged. "This is the first time I even admit it to myself!"

"Black!" called Snape suddenly. "Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Kristy looked up at Snape. He had been passing by to check on their potion, and seemed to be just in the mood to dock points. She knew she shouldn't argue, but her bad mood refused to be restrained.

"What for?"

"For talking in my class! And five more for your cheek."

Kristy scowled. "How is that fair? Norwood and Ivers were talking, too!"

The classroom went deadly quiet and stopped their work to watch. Ginny went white.

"_Detention_, Black," Snape said slowly, savouring the words. "If taking points will not teach you a lesson, this might just do the trick. Meet me here this afternoon after your classes are over," he added, looking like Christmas had come early.

"But that's-"

"Do you want them to be two?"

"Kristen, please…" whispered Ginny, pulling on her sleeve.

Kristy took a deep breath to try to calm herself down. She hated him! He hadn't even blinked at the Slyhterins! Just because she was a Gryffindor and he hated her father…

"No, professor," she finally conceded, although she did glare at him with as much hatred as she could muster.

Snape smirked, knowing he had won. "Good. Now if you don't mind, I believe the class is more important than anything you have to say."

Kristy bit her tongue, too angry to retaliate. Ginny stepped on her foot, just in case.

Snape hovered over their cauldron and looked at their yet unfinished potion. The corners of his mouth curled in disgust.

"Too pale. This barely scrapes a pass at OWL level, which you should start thinking about…" he trailed off. He narrowed his eyes at them, and Ginny stared back passively, but Kristy scowled again.

"It's the shade described by the book," she argued.

Ginny shook her head in fear and stepped harder on her foot, making her wince. The Gryffindors looked concerned. The Slytherins were having a field day.

Snape raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you suggesting I do not know my subject?" he asked dangerously.

Kristy opened and closed her mouth, not knowing how to respond.

"Typical Black," he sneered. "Bold at first, but you are all cowards in the end," he added scathingly, giving them a last disdainful glance and moving on to the Slytherins.

Kristy's jaw dropped slightly. She couldn't believe how much the man hated her family. Ginny was shaking her head, and praying Kristy didn't take the bait. Thankfully, she was too stunned to retort.

The two girls remained quiet the rest of the class, only speaking to ask for ingredients. Kristy's confrontation with Snape had been slightly longer than the time they had available, and they had added the roots a little too late. Now their potion looked a rancid orange instead of the rust colour they had been expecting.

"Fill a vial and leave it on my desk for grading," announced Snape. "Then get out."

Ginny caught the murderous look on Kristy's face, and reached out for a vial.

"I'll take it to him," she whispered, filling the vial slowly. "We don't want murder charges against you, too."

"Thanks," replied Kristy grimly. "I'll clean up."

As Ginny left, Kristy started spelling instruments clean and putting them away. She put out the fire and disposed of the potion last. When Ginny returned, they just had to pick up their bags and leave.

Outside they found the gang of Slytherins loitering by the dungeon's door. The two Gryffindors walked by without minding them.

"Nice going, Black," teased Jocelyn Ivers, blue eyes flashing with malice.

"Won't dad be proud of his little princess," added Norwood.

Outerridge laughed and stepped forward, blocking the way of the two Gryffindors. "I was wondering if you could clean up the vial I dropped earlier… you wouldn't mind, would you?"

"Sod off, Outerridge!" came Zane's voice from the dungeon's entrance. "Leave her alone!"

The rest of the Slytherins, except for shy Chantal Lestrange, hissed at Zane's defiance. Outerridge raised an eyebrow.

"And what if I don't, Hunt?" he taunted.

Instead of replying, Zane pulled out his wand and pointed it at the Slytherin. Outerridge had his out in a flash.

"Zane!" called Kristy in alarm. "This is ridiculous! Put that down, I don't mind the taunts. He's just crying out for attention," she scoffed.

Zane scowled. "I'm still going to fry him for being an asshole to you," he retorted.

"_Zane._"

As if on cue, both boys lifted their wands and cried almost at the same time:

"Reducto!"

"Furnunculus!"

Seeing the exploding curse thrown at him, Zane jumped out of the way as fast as he could. The curse hit the wall behind Zane instead, but Outerridge wasn't so lucky. Zane's curse reached him, and his skin soon became covered in blisters.

Zane had begun to laugh, but then Snape strode out of the classroom to find out what the racket was about. Since Zane and Outerridge were the only ones with their wands out, it didn't take him long to figure out what had happened.

"Hunt! Detention for you, too! Same time as Black. And you, Outerridge, go to Madame Pomfrey and get those cleared up. Out of here, all of you!"

The Slytherins soon huddled over Outerridge and the group scampered away. The Gryffindors, however, had to pull Zane away from Snape for giving _him_ detention, but not to Alphaeus Outerridge.

"What is his bloody problem?" Zane complained to the Gryffindors as soon as they were out of Snape's earshot. "Outerridge clearly started it!"

Kris rolled her eyes. "You should have kept your wand away," she scolded him. "I told you I didn't care about what he said."

"It was awesome, though!" piped in Colin from behind. "Did you see the Slytherins' faces? Wish I'd had my camera on me…"

"Oh yes, totally worth it," stated Luke dryly. "Now he's landed himself in detention with Kris."

Zane's cheeks flushed but his expression remained defiant. "That wasn't my intention."

Luke didn't seem to buy it. "Of course," he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Kris scowled at him. "Not again, Luke!" she snapped. "He stood up for me, that's all. Makes me wonder where _you_ were," she added crossly.

The small troupe of Gryffindors stopped at the top of the stairs. The cousins had started glaring at each other, and Ginny was forced to step in.

"Ok, enough both of you!" she told them, stepping between them. "You've been going at it for weeks now, and it's getting old! We have Herbology next, and I really don't want to be late. Do you think you can manage to stay off each other's throats until lunch time?"

Luke and Kris muttered their assent, and Ginny shook her head at them. She grabbed Kristy's wrist and pulled her after her, and towards the Main Entrance. Kristy turned her head and found Zane staring after her, just a few paces away from Luke. She mouthed a 'thank you' at him, and saw his face light up before Ginny pulled her out of his sight.

* * *

It wasn't until the end of Transfiguration, the last class of the day, that Kristy realized she was nervous. She also realized it had nothing to do with getting detention, as she'd served several under Snape. She looked up from her book as McGonagall handed out their homework and dismissed them, causing all the students to rise noisily and start putting their books away. Kristy copied them.

"Hey, Kris," greeted a shy voice to her right. "Ready to go?"

Kristy turned her head and found Zane standing right next to her desk. "I- go where?" she asked, slightly confused.

Zane seemed amused. "Detention? I figured we could walk together."

"Oh! That… yes. Sure, just let me put my stuff away," she blabbed, feeling around the desk for her quill and feeling increasingly silly. At last she managed to locate the aforementioned writing tool, and shoved it inside her schoolbag. Zane's smile was becoming larger by the second.

"Shall we?" he said at last, signalling for her to walk in front of him.

She tapped Ginny's shoulder and waved goodbye to her fellow redhead. "See you in the common room tonight," she said as farewell. Ginny just nodded and waved back distractedly… they shared Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws, and a certain Michael Corner held most of Ginny's attention for the time being.

Kristy then made a beeline for the door, and waited for her dark haired companion to catch up. At long last they could disentangle themselves from the crowd of students, and started descending to the dungeons. Zane was being quite fidgety.

"Sucks that Snape hates Gryffindor, huh?" he said conversationally.

Kristy rolled her eyes. "He's such a sore loser. He hates how Gryffindor has been beating Slytherin at everything since Harry started school," she replied. "I hate how he just didn't care about Norwood and Ivers! Have you seen how much they talk?"

Zane chuckled nervously despite Kristy's rising temper. "Oh yes. The other day during break, they couldn't shut up about how cute Malfoy is, and how they hate that Parkinson cow for being all over him, and whether they should ask Lestrange to get them close to him. It was disgusting."

Kristy sniggered. "Anything involving a cute Malfoy _is _disgusting. Why Lestrange, though? I think of all the Slytherins, she's the only one I could get to like… if she wasn't related to Death Eaters, of course. What would a couple of cows like Norwood and Ivers want with her?"

Zane suddenly stopped at the top of the last flight of stairs before reaching the Entrance Hall. He was looking at Kristy with a frown on his face. "How can you not know? Aren't you and the Malfoys related?"

Kristy winced. "Distantly, Zane. _Distantly_," she said tightly, hating her connection to them. "We try to ignore their comings and goings as much as the Daily Prophet will allow us. What is it that I don't know?"

Zane shook his dark head at her, and started leading her down the stairs. "You're not very tuned to Hogwarts' gossip are you? Chantal's father was sent to Azkaban after You-Know-Who fell, and the closest thing she had to family was her aunt's younger sister, Narcissa Malfoy. So the Malfoys took her in, and she's been living with them for about five years. Naturally, she and Draco are close," he explained.

Kristy nodded in understanding. Then looked at him quizzically. "How come you know all this from gossip, Zane?"

By then, they were walking down the corridor where the fight between Zane and Outerridge had broken out. Zane scowled at the spot.

"Gossip can be very accurate once you put all the versions of a story together," he explained. "It's entertaining… like solving a puzzle to get to the truth. I feel like Hogwarts is a giant soap opera, sometimes."

Kristy frowned, confused. "A soap opera? What's a soap opera?"

Zane chuckled. "Just a story of people getting into all sorts of dramas. My mum watches them all the time on the TV," he replied.

'_Ah, of course…_' Zane was Muggleborn, so he often used terms that were normal to him, but completely foreign to her, who'd been raised in a completely magic environment. She did, however, know what a TV was thanks to Lily Potter. Kristy contemplated his response and stopped in front of the classroom's open door. She had no desire to go in, though. "And you do this all the time?"

Zane shrugged. "Not _all_ the time, but I would like to work for the Prophet some day, and I think it's good practice. I've thought about hiring Colin as my photographer, too."

Suddenly, an image of an older Colin with a giant camera tagging after an older Zane with a quill, a notepad and a large hat, floated into Kristy's mind and she giggled. "I'll read all your articles, then."

Zane beamed at her.

"If you will stop your giggling and step inside…" drawled a cold voice from the inside of the classroom, making both Gryffindors jump.

Kristy and Zane filed in, and saw Snape standing by his desk. Neither had seen him come out of his office. Both stayed quiet, waiting for their Professor's instructions. They knew better than to ask for them.

After a few moments of silent contemplation, Snape set them the task of cleaning the dungeon's floor by hand, using no more than a bucket of soapy water that refilled itself, and a couple of rags. Then he went back to his office and left them on their own. Kristy spotted the mess Outerridge had mentioned right away. It looked sticky and difficult to remove. She scowled.

Zane noticed and picked up one of the rags. "I'll take care of that one, don't worry," he offered. Kristy smiled her thanks and both got to work.

By dinnertime, they still weren't done.

"How do the House-Elves do this?" Kristy cried in anguish, looking down at her hands, red from scrubbing.

Zane paused his cleaning and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "Well, _they_ are allowed to use magic, aren't they?" he said grumpily. He threw down his rag and sat down dejectedly. "I'm starving," he declared miserably.

Kristy sat down right across from him and leaned on one of the chairs. "Me too," she replied. "You don't think Snape will be kind enough to let us go, do you?"

The boy closed his tired grey-blue eyes, and shook his head slowly. "Of course he won't."

Kristy grimaced and cast a glance at their long discarded robes. They had taken them off and remained in their uniforms after it got too hot. Zane followed her gaze, and then took advantage of her looking away so he could look at her. '_Damn, she's pretty.'_

Without really knowing why, he blurted the first thing that came to his tired and hungry mind. "There's a Hogsmeade weekend on the first week of October," he told her.

Kristy switched her attention back to him, her eyebrows high on her face. "Yes I know. What about it?" Internally, she had a feeling about what Zane was trying to do, but decided to ignore it.

Zane shifted uncomfortably, and avoided eye contact. "Well, I know it's still far from now, and that this isn't the place but… I… ah…"

His voice trailed off and Kristy was forced to prompt him after a few moments of silence. "Zane?"

The boy in question looked up at her meekly. He took a deep breath. "I was just wondering if… um… if you'd like to come with me?"

Kristy blinked a few times, suddenly hating her female sixth sense. "I-Hogsmeade… well, I..." she stammered. Zane looked horribly hopeful, even if she wasn't making any sense at the moment. Should she go? Wouldn't that mean Luke had won?

'_Screw Luke, Kristen,' _grumbled a voice in the back of her head. _'Say yes!'_

But what about Harry?

'_He's too busy with that Chang girl and his OWLs to notice you, remember? Say yes!'_

But the Ball-

'_Was almost a year ago! Say yes!'_

She had to screw her eyes shut to keep the stupid voice silent. So what if the Ball had been last Christmas? Harry had asked her, hadn't he? Not Cho! And if she agreed to go out with Zane… who knew where that could end? What if Harry never asked her to do anything with him again because she was with Zane?

'_I thought you liked him…'_

Kristy opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was disappointment slowly creeping into Zane's face. She felt like a horrible person.

Zane picked up his rag again, and looked away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked…" he apologized, his neck and cheeks flushing.

"No, wait!" she said, sitting up straight. Zane looked up at her, looking hopeful again. He really wasn't bad looking… kind of cute, as a matter of fact. "I-I do want to go with you to Hogsmeade… I was just surprised, that's all."

The stunned look on his face changed into a huge smile. "Really?" he asked brightly, not really believing his good luck.

Kristy laughed. "Yes, really, you silly boy," she said. She then threw her own rag at him. "Now back to work!"

Dinner had long ended when they were finally done. Snape had sneered at them and their work, but had let them go, and the two tired Gryffindors could at last go rest. Zane had been complaining and cursing Snape every step up to Gryffindor tower.

"My arms are killing me," he was whining by the time they reached the portrait.

"My back is killing _me_," replied Kristy, rubbing said sore spot.

"You both look terrible," added the Fat Lady, looking at them with concern. "What happened to you?"

Zane growled. "Snape happened to us. Belladona."

The portrait swung forward and Kristy stepped in, followed closely by Zane. It wasn't so late, so several Gryffindors were still lounging in the common room. Ginny spotted the two newcomers before they spotted her.

"Kris! Over here!"

Kristy looked up at the sound of her name and saw Ginny waving at her from an armchair in front of the fire.

"I saved you something from dinner!" she announced with a cheeky smile.

Kristy smiled gleefully and mentally thanked her friend's thoughtfulness. She led Zane to the youngest member of the Weasley clan, and almost snatched the bagel from Ginny's hands. Zane's stomach rumbled.

Ginny snorted at the sound. "Derek brought you something, too. He's upstairs waiting for you in your dorm," she informed him.

Zane's eyes brightened up. "Thanks, Ginny! See you tomorrow, Kris!" he added, throwing a brilliant smile in Kristy's direction and fleeing the room in search of food. Kristy sighed. Boys would be boys.

Ginny followed Zane's progress with her eyes, until she heard a door open and close. Then she turned on Kristy.

"Ok. Spill," she ordered.

Kristy, having just bitten into her dinner, looked reproachfully at her and made a noise at Ginny that could have been a muffled _'sod off'_.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her. "Fine. Finish your food first."

Kristy sat down on the armchair Ginny had been saving for her and wolfed down her meal, screw her manners. She was hungry, dammit.

Ginny sat watching her eat with morbid fascination. Kristy generally ignored her, until she was finished and lying contently on the armchair with a full stomach.

"It is at times like this that I can tell you're related to your dad," Ginny said slowly with a grin.

The other girl mock glared. "Shut up. What do you want to know?" she asked with a sigh.

Ginny scooted closer to her friend. "First things first. How is this Luke's fault?"

Kristy glared at the boys' dorm, picturing her cousin on his bed, and frowned. "You know how Zane and I partnered up in Transfiguration that time you were in the infirmary?" –Ginny nodded- "Well, we were given homework in pairs that day, and we started spending more and more time together because of it. We paired again in Charms and Herbology, and obviously Luke noticed."

Ginny seemed to be thinking. "And that's when the teasing started, correct?"

Kristy turned back to her and nodded. "It was ok at first, but then he started doing it every second of _every day_, until I actually started picturing…" –at this she lowered her voice- "_Zane and I together_," she whispered. She looked slightly mortified.

The chatter in the common room also decreased in volume, and the two girls noticed more of the students had gone up to their dorms. It was a little past nine now. The fire crackled merrily next to the two girls.

"Ok, so Luke teased you until you started believing his teasing," summarized Ginny, lowering her voice to match the decreased chatter around them.

Kristy shrugged. "Basically."

Ginny nodded again. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "But why does that bother you?" she asked, confused. "Zane's a good kid."

"I know that," replied Kristy miserably, pulling on a loose string from her armchair. "It's silly but I was actually hoping… I don't know. I guess that, after the Yule Ball I got my hopes up," she finally confessed.

The two girls stared at each other impassively. They both knew the other had a thing for Harry, but it was Kristy that had gotten the invitation to the Ball the year before. Ginny had never wanted to discuss the subject; she was just happy pretending it never happened.

"I would have liked that invitation," Ginny said dryly, offering Kristy a grimace.

Kristy winced. "I know…"

Ginny shrugged. "It's not like you told him to invite you," she said softly, but she couldn't bring herself to meet Kristy's green eyes. "It's not your fault."

Kristy snorted. "Some good it did me, too," she said bitterly. "To Harry, the Ball was just another task he had to fulfil."

"_That_ it was," agreed Ginny with a single nod. The two girls sighed in exasperation and laughed.

"He's a bit of a blind idiot, isn't he? Harry?" Kristy asked with a small smile.

Ginny laughed. "He can face all sort of danger, but when it comes to girls… well, let's say he's not his dad," she added with a smile.

Kristy shook her head. "Speaking of boys… how's it going with Michael?"

Ginny's smile turned mischievous. "We're just going out. Spending breaks together, that sort of thing… sorry if that meant you had to face Luke on your own, by the way."

Kristy waved her off. "I might just take a page out of your book and do the same with Zane. He… um… he sort of asked me out," she said at last, scratching the back of her neck for good measure.

"Sort of?" cried Ginny, not expecting that titbit of information. "Sort of how?"

Kristy smirked. "Hogsmeade weekend."

"And?"

"I said yes."

But before Ginny could express how glad she was for her friend, the portrait swung open again and both girls turned around to see whom it was that was returning so late to the common room. It was well past curfew. However they saw… no one?

The portrait swung shut again and the two girls exchanged a look. _Harry's cloak._

A few moments later, and seemingly from nowhere, Ron and Hermione appeared right next to them.

"Hello, fine ladies. How are you this evening?"

"Shut up, Ron," Ginny told her brother. She was smiling nonetheless. "Where have you guys been?"

Ron hastened to hide his best friend's cloak under his robes. "Around," he replied evasively.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Honestly, Ron." Then to the girls, "We were just getting a potion for Harry. He got himself landed in detention with Umbridge again."

Kristy's eyes widened. "_Again?_ What did he do this time?"

Ron snorted. "You know how Fudge said Dumbledore was senile for saying You-Know-Who is back?"

Kristy nodded cautiously. She could see where this was going.

Ron grimaced. "Well, he sort of reminded her how You-Know-Who bypassed Hogwarts' wards to get to the Philosopher's Stone. It wasn't pretty."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Ok, but what is the potion _for?_" Neither girl had had much contact with Harry lately, and hadn't discovered Umbridge's idea of detention.

"He usually comes back with a killer headache," Hermione lied easily. Ron only nodded in support, and the two girls seemed satisfied.

"I hate that useless woman," Kristy said suddenly. The Weasleys scowled at the memory of said woman, and Hermione frowned.

"She's awful," Hermione agreed, sitting down on the arm of Kristy's armchair. "As a person _and_ as a teacher."

Ginny pursed her lips. "Don't kill me for saying this, but I think I learned more from Lockhart than I'm learning from her."

"Hands down," commented Kristy, rubbing her face with frustration. "I wish she could be kicked out."

"Or replaced," added Ginny helpfully.

Hermione made a little noise and drew their attention to her. The three looked quizzically at the brunette. She sighed.

"I've been thinking about that, too," she confessed at last. "And I haven't found any school rules that say it can't be done, but… the Ministry backs her up," he added bitterly. She looked like she had really been doing research on the matter, trying to figure out a way they could be rid of her.

Ron sat down next to his sister despite her protests that he didn't fit in the armchair with her. "She's going to try to replace the rest of the teachers, though," he told the girls. "Possibly with _'Ministry approved horseshit'_."

"Ron!" Hermione cried, alarmed. "You're a prefect! You can't talk like that!"

Kristy and Ginny were laughing, however.

"Give it a rest, Hermione," he replied. "Didn't you just get here by sneaking around after curfew?"

Hermione spluttered. "That's completely different!"

"Guys!" called Ginny, trying to stop them from starting another one of their fights. "Umbridge?"

The two older students looked back at her. "Right," said Ron. "So she inspected a few of our classes already. Things aren't looking too well for Trelawney and Hagrid," he added with a grim expression on his face.

Kristy and Ginny exchanged glances.

"What are we going to do?" Kristy asked finally. "You-Know-Who is out there, and we have no idea how to defend ourselves from him."

Ron seemed to think about it. "What about poison?"

The two younger girls burst out laughing despite the situation, but decided to go to bed a little after that. They had early classes the next day.

* * *

_What are we going to do?_

Kristy's question bounced around Hermione's head even after the younger girls had gone to bed. _What are we going to do?_ She was about to bounce an idea off Ron, but the redhead had fallen asleep while they waited for Harry. Sloth.

Would it be too crazy to ask lessons from one of the other teachers? An Order member, maybe?

Before she could fully process it, the portrait swung open again at around midnight and Harry stumbled in cradling his hand, wrapped in a scarf. Hermione kicked Ron, and he jerked awake.

"Hermione, what the hell?" he cried.

She ignored him, turning her head toward Harry instead, and stared at him like she had never really seen him before. Harry, who had survived the Killing Curse; Harry, who had saved the Philosopher's Stone at only eleven; Harry, who had killed a Basilisk and destroyed Voldemort's memory; Harry, who could produce a corporeal Patronus; Harry, who had passed the three Tournament Tasks and escaped death yet again last year. _Why hadn't she thought about it before?_

But… no… or, _maybe? _Why not?

Would he think her too insane if she asked him to teach?


End file.
